


Written In The Stars

by LicieOIC



Series: The Musical Theatre AU's [2]
Category: Aida - John/Rice/Woolverton & Falls & Hwang, Aida - Verdi/Ghislanzoni, Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Reincarnation, Romance, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LicieOIC/pseuds/LicieOIC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor is set to marry Princess Romana and become the next ruler of Gallifrey, much to his dismay, as it means his days as a traveling adventurer are over. He saves a slave named Rose from going to the auction block and is intrigued by her spirit. The lines between them are clear, they cannot be together, but some things are written in the stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: I am playing fast and loose with canon Gallifrey here. It is *inspired* by their chapter houses and caste system, but not truly based on it. This is very AU, the Time Lords are a dominant lot, trying to conquer the universe, and they have no qualms about taking "lesser species" as slaves. To them, it's normal, it's how things are.
> 
> Also note, there is DEATH in this story, but there WILL be an eventual happy ending. This is based on the opera and musical "Aida," which ends sad with dying, as operas tend to do. This one DOES end happy, I mean, this is ME, I don't really do sad endings. Just have faith and keep reading!
> 
> Regarding the picture, I was describing Young!One to the chat ladies and I'd just seen Thor 2, and I realized I'd just described Loki. So, Tom Hiddleston is now forever branded into my brain as a young First Doctor. I looked up some pics of young William Hartnell and TH is not a bad ringer for him!

The Tardis materialized on Gallifrey’s extensive docking port, assuming its usual form of a plain gray cylinder. A young Time Lord, perhaps a little over a hundred, stepped out and paused, taking a deep breath of the dry, hot air. The breeze teased at his slightly wavy black hair, tousled at the front where it hung down by his cheeks, just a bit longer than was accepted. The other Time Lords poured out of the Time Capsule behind him, hurrying about their business now that they’d come home, but the Doctor just stood still for a moment, the corners of his deep blue eyes crinkling as he took in the sight of red grasses and silver leafed trees, the umber path stones in a swirling pattern beneath his feet.

He sighed, dusting his hands together. “Well, that’s enough,” he said, satisfied with the amount of time he’d spent on his planet. “Time to request another mission from the Citadel!”

The Time Lords were a fairly ruthless lot, exploring the universe as though devouring it in their mission to be the dominant species. Their abilities to see and manipulate time put them above the rest, or so they believed. The Doctor shared his people’s desire for knowledge, but wasn’t fond of everything they did in the name of conquest.

He frowned at another group of Time Lords who were unloading a Tardis, but rather than the artifacts, samples of plant and rock life, and data logs his team had brought home, these Time Lords had brought back people. Taken from their own planets and times to be slaves.

The Doctor had only ever kept one, a small boy he’d seen on the auction block, shivering with fear. One of the commerce agents was mistreating him for moving too slowly and the Doctor had bought him out of pity. He paid the boy for his work at his house, unlike most other Time Lords. His name was Mickey, from the human-settled planet of Torchwood, and he’d only been eleven human years old then. It had been nine linear years of his time since, and the Doctor was barely ever home, unless he was summoned by Lord Rassilon, so Mickey had quickly learned to manage all his affairs while he was away.

The Doctor was grateful to be a member of the archives, as was his right as a high caste Lord. If he’d been in commerce, he would have had to deal with the unpleasant task of plucking people from their homes. _He_ might rather be out among the stars, but that didn’t mean _everyone_ wished to be elsewhere.

His eyebrows lifted nearly to his hairline as a commotion broke out between the slaves and the Time Lords. A young woman with bright golden hair had grabbed a Time Lord’s electrical probe and was holding him hostage with it. Even with her wrists shackled, she looked like she knew how to use the device, which was capable of stunning a fully grown person, and could perhaps even prompt regeneration with continuous usage.

She angled her chin at the nearby Tardis, a determined glint in her dark eyes. “Take them back!” she ordered.

The Doctor strode forward to take control of the situation, the other Time Lords stepped back, deferring to a Lord of a higher caste. “You don’t want to do this,” he said to the woman, extending his hand to her. “Give me the probe. Now!”

But the woman didn’t respond to his command, except to hold the probe closer to the Time Lord’s chest, so near to his hearts. “You took us from Torchwood,” she said, referring to the Time Lords as a whole, not caring that it wasn’t the Doctor personally that had done it. “So, now you say that we belong to you, yeah?” She tilted her head at the Time Lord she had pinned. “Well, I took this one from your ranks. By your own logic, he belongs to me.” She glared at the Doctor. “Now, take them back home!”

The Doctor smiled at her reasoning the way one would indulge a child, then gestured toward the slaves. Instantly, they were seized by the remaining Time Lords and electric probes crackled to life.

“No! Stop!” she said at once. With a sigh, she threw down the probe and allowed herself to be taken by both arms.

The Time Lord who’d been held hostage picked up the probe indignantly and pointed it at the woman. “Throw her into the Vortex!”

The Doctor grabbed his arm. “No, wait,” he said and the others paused. “They were going to auction, weren’t they? I want her.” He fished his credit stick from his orange robes as the other Time Lord goggled at him.

“My Lord Doctor… Are you sure?” he asked, not wanting to outright call the Doctor a fool for asking to purchase such an unruly slave. “She’s obviously unused to servitude, it will take ages to train her.”

“Good thing I’ve got time, then,” he said with a little smirk.

With a shrug, the Time Lord swiped the credit stick over the handheld device attached to the belt of his robe on a sturdy chain, then gave the Doctor the key to the woman’s shackles. Grabbing them, he pulled the woman behind him and into his Tardis.

He led her into his private quarters, which was decorated in a somewhat sparse but lush style, in shades of red, gold, and silver, the furniture a spartan white. A bed stood to one side, and an armchair sat next to a fireplace, with a pile of books on a table nearby. He pulled her through the room and into the ensuite, closing the door after them.

She looked apprehensively at the tiled room, the soft blue and white atmosphere not calming her nerves at all. Whatever she’d been expecting, this apparently wasn’t it. There was a sunken tub in the floor that was slowly filling with steaming water. She looked back at the man who’d purchased her, the Doctor he was called, and flinched as he raised a hand to her.

He lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t want your shackles removed?” he asked. Her mouth tightened, but she meekly held out her hands for the chains to be unlocked. “Good,” he said. “They’ll only get in the way.” He gestured back the way they came as he took away the manacles and tossed them to the floor with a loud clatter. “You were quite impressive out there, by the way.”

“Are you mocking me?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I’m admiring you.”

He removed his outer robe with the ornate mantle and let it fall to the floor as he kept his blue eyes on her, almost a dare. “Do you know what’s going to happen now?” he asked as he started on the buttons of his shirt.

“No,” she said, her voice somewhat breathless as her eyes darted around the room, seeing no exit other than the one behind him.

“I will be expected at the Citadel,” he informed her. “You will help prepare me for that meeting.” He removed the shirt, leaving him in his trousers that were tucked into his calf-high black boots. He nodded at her. “Remove your clothing.”

She clutched at the gray hoodie she wore. “What?” she squeaked.

“I don’t yet have appropriate garments for you, and those will get wet if you assist with my bath while wearing them,” he said with cold, steady logic. “I hope you’re better with a sponge than you are with an electrical probe.”

“I wish I had an electrical probe now,” she muttered, reluctantly unzipping the hoodie, taking her time in folding it and setting it aside, avoiding looking at him as she continued to undress.

“I’m afraid I don’t keep weapons here… or anywhere near me, really,” he said, tossing his boots away. “Who taught you how to handle a weapon?”

“My mother.” She set her t-shirt on top of the hoodie and turned her back to him, trying not to blush as she removed her bra.

“That’s unusual. Not relying on men for protection.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, then away again as she saw he was wearing only his pants, which were slung low on his slim hips. “She believed in knowing how to protect oneself, something she passed to me.” She jumped as his arms came around her waist, deftly undoing the button of her jeans. She whirled away from him, clutching her trousers tightly and covering her breasts with one arm. “What are you doing?” she shouted.

Her mouth went dry as she saw that he was completely naked. She swallowed hard. He was undeniably beautiful with his pale skin and dark hair. She was unable to keep herself from looking at the bits that declared him the male of the species. A small trail of hair, dark as the locks on his head, led down from his stomach to a tidy nest of curls at the apex of his legs where an impressive, though soft, member hung.

He held up a hand. “Please, don’t shout. It echoes in here and I am quite capable of hearing you.” He gestured at her clothing in its neat pile. “You were taking too long. I was helping you.”

“Right,” she said, not believing that for a moment. She unconsciously licked her lips, her eyes wandering down once again. He made no move to cover himself, nor did he seem at all embarrassed by her observation. “You… look human,” she said.

“No, you look Gallifreyan,” he said. “We were around first.” He tilted his head, looking thoughtful. “That’s right, you’re all humans on Torchwood, aren’t you? I suppose I should remember that, my servant, Mickey, was from there.” He lifted his brows at her. “Do you still require help?”

She knew he’d have to see her naked eventually, but she wanted to maintain her dignity for as long as possible, so she turned her back again and unfastened her jeans. She heard a small splashing sound and figured he’d gotten in the sunken tub. Taking a steadying breath, she pulled off her jeans with her knickers and threw them on her pile without bothering to fold them. Now that she was naked, she wanted to get in the water as soon as she could.

She resisted the urge to make any appreciative sounds at the feel of the perfectly warm and fragrant water. There were light green tiles scattered among the white and blue on the bottom of the tub in swirling patterns which glowed softly. In another time and place, she might have considered this quite a romantic setting. Forcing her arms to relax and not reflexively cover herself, she grabbed a nearby sponge and waded through the spa-like tub to the Doctor.

The water lapped at the undersides of her breasts and she didn't miss how his gaze roved appreciatively over them before he turned to allow her to scrub his back.

She didn’t want to be attractive to him, she wanted to hate him. But even though the Time Lords had taken her and others like so much cattle, she couldn’t ignore the fact that this one had saved her from being thrown in the Vortex, or worse. The ‘why’ of it burned on her tongue, but she didn’t know if she could ask, and she hated not knowing. She pursed her lips, irritated, as she began scrubbing, and some kind of component in the sponge made it lather automatically.

“What is your name?” he asked, suddenly.

“Rose.”

“Did they have roses on Torchwood?” he asked.

“My gran said she could remember them.” She licked her lips, deciding to go for it. “Why did you save me? Because I know that’s what you did, you bought me on purpose. Why?”

He turned around, a little smirk on his face. “Questioning me. You must like to live dangerously.”

She set her jaw, not backing away from him, refusing to cower. “About as much as I like being your slave.” Rose thought he might finally strike her for that, but his eyes were almost sad as he regarded her.

He glanced at the sponge in her hand. “You’re not finished.” She glared, but began lathering his chest and arms. “I saved you because you showed spirit, Rose,” he said as she washed him. “And that is a very bad thing here, even in Time Lords. There are those who would do anything in their power to see you crushed.” He shook his head. “Worse still, there are those who take pleasure in it. In thinking up punishments for wayward servants. I have seen some purchase the more defiant slaves on purpose, just so they would be able to justify their mistreatment.”

The thought made her go cold inside, despite the fact that the water stayed at the perfect temperature. “I suppose I should say thank you,” she said, frowning, “but chains are still chains, whether you have a kind master or a cruel one.”

“Please, just call me the Doctor,” he said. “I already have a friend called the Master.”

She blinked. “Really?” She shook her head. “You Time Lords have strange names.”

“No stranger than ‘Rose’ on a world where they don’t exist.”

As she continued to wash him, she bit her lip, trying to force herself not to blush as she touched his intimate parts with the sponge only. She gasped when he traced her cheek with a finger.

“You’re blushing a lot,” he said. She didn’t know if he sounded smug or curious. “Do I make you nervous?”

She shook her head, focusing her eyes on the surprisingly little amount of chest hair he had. “It’s just weird.”

“Weird?” He said the word like it had never crossed his lips before.

She moved her eyes to the water, her hand with the sponge moving jerkily along his hips. “Never been in a bath with someone before without, well, you know…”

“Actually, no, and that’s a new feeling for me.”

She sighed. “You _know_ … without _things_ going in a certain direction.” She lifted her eyebrows at him, meaningfully.

“Oh!” There was a wealth of understanding in the word and he chuckled. “You little humans, shagging your way across the galaxy…”

She hmphed.

“You’re wondering why I’m not more… _affected_ by your presence, then.”

She said nothing, though the thought was in the back of her brain. She’d never been naked in front of a bloke, and certainly had never handled their _equipment_ , without the man getting at least a _bit_ excited.

“Time Lords can control that part of our physiology,” he said. “Didn’t you know that? We can control most of our bodily functions.”

_Good for you, Mr. Superiority,_ she thought, sarcastically.

He waggled his dark brows, smiling smugly. “Why? Were you… interested? Granted, I haven’t had a lot of interactions with human females, but I’ve heard about your urges--”

“No!” she exclaimed at once, indignantly. “It’s not like you’re _so_ attractive I can’t control myself, ugh…” He actually looked hurt and she couldn’t stop herself from adding, “I was just worried you’d bought me for… _other_ reasons, when you told me to get out of my clothes.”

“There are those who purchase slaves for such a thing,” he said, bluntly. “To sate our baser needs. But personally, I find it distasteful to force that sort of thing with anyone.” He looked her over again, a light smile on his lips. “Suffice it to say, _things_ might be different, were I incapable of controlling that part of myself. What’s going on up here,” he indicated his head, “doesn’t necessarily show outwardly unless I want it to.”

“I assure you, I don’t care.” But she kind of did, if the nagging sense of satisfaction tucked at the back of her mind was any indication.

He didn’t respond, but stared into the middle distance for a few seconds, then pushed her hand away and submerged himself, rinsing off the suds. He ran his hands through his hair, slicking it back, showing off his high forehead, which strangely didn’t detract from his looks at all.

“I’m being summoned,” he said, tapping his temple.

He climbed out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his hips, then tossed one to Rose when she’d gotten out. “Be dressed by the time I come back,” he said, then left the bathroom.

Worried that he might take her outside whether she was ready or not (he didn’t seem that concerned with his own nudity, after all), Rose got dressed in a hurry. She was glad she didn’t have to worry about drying her hair, which had only gotten a few drops on it, at most.

The Doctor came back in a fresh set of robes, including the ornate headpiece. His black hair curled a little bit underneath the back of it. Rose’s expression crumpled in dismay as he scooped the shackles back up.

She took a step back. “Please, leave them off.”

He frowned and stepped forward, grabbing each of her hands and snapping the cuffs around her wrists. “I might admire your spirit, Rose, but here, you are a slave. And if you want to survive in Gallifrey, you’d better remember that.” He looked away from her sad, hazel eyes and pulled her after him out of the Tardis.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote taken from Oscar Wilde. ^_^

A Gallifreyan merchant, wearing the plain dun colored robes of his caste, glanced around furtively as he approached the back door of the Doctor’s house. Normally, he wouldn’t be so nervous, but he’d heard the Time Lord had returned and he wanted to get this transaction completed as quickly as possible.

He knocked three times, paused, then twice more, the agreed-upon code. A young servant with dark skin wearing a toga-like garment in the same color as the merchant’s robes opened the door a few moments later. The sash around his waist was bright scarlet with an orange stripe, denoting he was owned by the Doctor. Two wine casks secured on a carrying pole were held in one of his hands.

“Is that it, Mickey?” asked the merchant, pointing at the casks.

“You got the gold?” asked Mickey. The Time Lords dealt in credits, but Mickey was smart enough to ask for something that translated into wealth just about anywhere - gold dust. The merchant handed over a cloth sack and the young man smiled, handing over the fine wine. He tucked the sack of gold into the pouch at his side and closed the door as the merchant hurried away.

Mickey returned to the front of the house, just as the Doctor arrived. Thanking his fortuitous timing, he opened the door for him.

“My Lord Doctor, I’m so glad you’ve returned.”

“Mickey!” said the Doctor, smiling. “Have you kept my house in order?”

The servant looked oddly at the woman the Doctor tugged inside after him, apparently another slave from her chains. How strange, since the Doctor hadn’t kept any other servants but him in all this time. “Yes,” Mickey answered. “Well, all but a few casks of wine that went missing.”

“Again?” But the Doctor shrugged, uncaring, as Mickey knew he would. The Doctor didn’t like Gallifreyan wine, yet it was still delivered along with other gifts from the Citadel.

Mickey was about to close the door when it crashed open again, into the young man’s shoulder. The Time Lord who entered wore robes that were similar to the Doctor’s, though his mantle and headpiece were a bit less elaborate. He looked down his slightly bulbous nose at the servant with eyes that were an odd copper color with a ring of gray around the outside.

“Stand aside, Mickey!” he ordered.

“Yes, Lord Master, adviser to Rassilon, loved by the Eternals, the people, and himself,” he added under his breath.

Of course, the Master still heard him and his glare intensified. “Watch yourself, human, or I’ll--”

The Doctor dropped Rose’s chain and came to greet his friend with a clasping of forearms. “Koschei! It’s good to see you.”

The Master smiled at his long-time friend, holding him by the shoulders at arms length. “Theta! At last! I was beginning to think my summons had gone unheard.” He scoffed. “But I knew _that_ wasn’t possible, so I knew you were just ignoring me. Shame on you!” He turned serious, getting right down to business. “Did you suffer any complications?”

“Not with the mission, no,” said the Doctor.

“Good, so your team was able to scout Skaro, then!” The Master beamed. “And you recorded the landscape?”

The Doctor nodded. “With the data we recorded, an illiterate Time Tot could navigate his way through Skaro.”

The Master furrowed his brow, looking around the Doctor at the oddly dressed female standing at the edge of the room in shackles. “When you say ‘no complications with the mission,’ do you mean--”

The Doctor swooped in and grabbed Rose’s chain, bringing her forward so his friend could see her better. “Picked her up on arrival!” he said, cheerfully. “I needed a gift for the princess.”

“Ah, yes,” said the Master, understanding. “She will expect something, I shouldn’t wonder. She asked after you every day.”

The Doctor merely hummed noncommittally as he turned his back to the Master. “Hold your hands up for me, Rose.”

“Your name is Rose?” Mickey asked suddenly.

“Mickey,” said the Doctor in warning, then looked back at Rose, tapping the key against her shackles. “I’m going to remove these, but if you try to escape, they will come after you. Might even do it myself.”

“You flatter me, Doctor,” she said, cheekily tucking her tongue into her teeth. “You don’t strike me as a man who has to chase after any woman.”

The Master goggled at Rose’s daring, but the Doctor merely waggled his head at her. “I’ll just have to make an exception for you.” He tossed the manacles aside and looked to his other servant. “Mickey, take her to Princess Romana, with my compliments.”

Mickey bowed and gestured for Rose to follow him out of the house. The Master crossed his arms, shaking his head at the Doctor. “You’ve been gone for quite a quite a bit longer without checking in this time. I think a personal appearance might be in order.”

“Really?” he asked. “How long has it been?”

“Six cycles.”

The Doctor whistled low. “You might be right. Though you and Romana should know that as soon as my team has rejuvenated, I’m going on another mission.”

“You can’t,” the Master said, grabbing his friend’s sleeve urgently, as if he suspected he might leave that very moment. “Doctor, Gallifrey needs you now. Rassilon is not the powerful leader he was when you left.” He frowned. “While you’ve been off, doing as you please, I’ve been here holding the fort, putting plans in place. For _you_. With Rassilon’s regeneration cycles coming to an end, time isn’t on your side anymore with regard to your wedding.” He laughed, shortly. “Ironic, isn’t it? A Time Lord running out of time.”

“You mean, he’s falling invalid?” the Doctor asked in concern. It was something that happened only when a Time Lord was very close to his end, when their bodies grew frail and infirm.

“I’m afraid so.”

The Doctor made to leave the house and the Master followed him. “I should go to him.”

“Yes,” said the Master. “That will bring him some comfort.” He closed the front door after them and lifted a hand in farewell as the Doctor hurried off toward the Citadel, his orange robes fluttering in his wake. “See you at the banquet, Doctor!”

The smile fell from the Master’s face and he turned, heading for his own house. He’d worked too long and hard at Rassilon’s side, building the Doctor up, planting the seeds to name him his successor, for his friend to cock it all up now. Once Rassilon was dead and the Doctor was bonded with Romana, the Master could have free reign of Gallifrey’s armies. He would expand their conquest to planets no Time Lords had ever dared to tread in war. He would carve a great name for himself with his friend on the throne, he would no longer be pushed down because of his lower family caste.

But first, Rassilon had to die.

He closed the door to the secret room beneath his house, the wall on the outside appearing seamless. He looked coldly at his small group of supporters, all seated around a long table in their orange and red Prydonian robes. He walked the length of one side of the table, tapping his laser screwdriver against one palm.

“Someone has been telling Rassilon about our private meetings,” he said in a mild tone. Suddenly, he stopped and pointed the screwdriver across the table. “You! You’re the traitor!” he growled. The Time Lord he indicated held up his hands, mumbling frantic platitudes, but the Master wasn’t listening. “I’m afraid you’ve become a liability.”

He pressed the button on the side of the device and the red laser beam hit the Time Lord square in the chest. The man screamed and slumped in his chair, then bright golden light began to emerge from his body. Before the regeneration could complete, the Master zapped him again, killing him for good. He tucked the screwdriver into the pocket of his robes and took his seat at the head of the table.

“Someone get rid of that,” he said, nodding dismissively at the dead Time Lord. Two others scrambled to do his bidding, not wanting to be on the receiving end of the laser. He looked to the man on his right, who twitched a bit. “Have you managed to extract more of the poison?”

The man carefully withdrew a small phial half-full of white powder, labeled ‘acetylsalicylic acid.’ The Master took it, almost gleefully. “Who would have thought we’d find such a thing in the mines of Mount Lung?” he asked, though no one answered his rhetorical question. He handed it back to the man. “Put some in Rassilon’s wine tonight. Just a few grains. We don’t want him dying _just_ yet.”

* * *

Rose emerged from the changing room inside the Citadel, dressed in the uncolored toga-like dress of a royal servant, her hair up in a serviceable bun on top of her head. The bright orange belt at her waist designated her as Princess Romana’s handmaiden.

“Well, now you look the part,” Mickey said, pushing away from the wall of the hallway where he’d been waiting. “But the Doctor saw that you are special.”

She scoffed. “What a man, or a Time Lord, sees and understands could be written on a grain of rice.”

“Maybe,” Mickey hedged. “But you said the Doctor saved you from going to auction.”

“Or death,” she said. “It was… surprising. And decent.”

“Doesn’t really surprise me,” he said. “I was eleven when they brought me here. The Doctor saved me from being beaten to death by one of the commerce agents. He promised he’d look after me from then on, and he kept that promise.” Rose turned away from him and Mickey ran to her other side, pleading for her to listen. “Look, I know what you’re thinking… that I’m on their side. But I’m still human. I’ll always be human.”

“A human who learned to survive by accepting the role of a slave,” she said.

“I grew up in Vitex,” he said suddenly, which made her freeze. He nodded, as though he was expecting her reaction. “You were there the day my family and I were taken away. My father was advisor to the queen… your mother. That’s how I know you. We were kids together.”

“No!” she said. “I’m just a slave, like you, now. If the Time Lords found out who I was--”

“They’d kill you, or use you as some kind of bargaining chip in their political wars, I know,” he said. “But Princess--”

She hurriedly shushed him. “Mickey, you _must_ treat me like any other servant!”

“The other slaves would keep your secret.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” she said, shaking her head. “Please, you can’t tell anyone who I am. From now on, I’m just a gift from a Time Lord to his princess.”

“Romana is more than that to the Doctor,” said Mickey. “She’s his betrothed.”

“He’s to be married?” she asked, blinking in surprise. “When?”

He shrugged. “The day his dematerialization circuit breaks and he can’t fix it.” He gestured down the hall. “Come on, let’s get you to the princess.”

* * *

The communal baths were inside a cavernous room with arched ceilings, gilded pillars, and extensive mosaic murals depicting women dancing. The pool was always the perfect temperature, with marble statues of ladies carrying jars pouring a constant flow of fresh, purified, turquoise water. Near the ceiling, above the murals and mirrors on the walls, were wide, clear-glass windows to allow natural light from the dual suns.

Romana climbed out of the enormous pool and allowed a nearby servant to help her into a red silk robe. Other Time Ladies were swimming, being rubbed down with fragrant oils, or laying on loungers and nibbling fruit from trays held by slaves. Romana stood beneath the sonic dryer for a few seconds, allowing it to absorb all the excess water from her person, then fluffed out her hair.

Approaching a large full-length mirror, Romana looked at herself from several angles, pursing her lips critically. Her heavily lashed blue eyes saw every detail, from her dark brown hair that poofed perfectly about her shoulders, to her elegantly filed toenails. Finally, she sighed and turned to the other women, satisfied for the moment that there could be no fault in her appearance.

“It’s such hard work maintaining this image,” she said to the room at large. “But worth it!”

The women nodded and responded in the affirmative. One woman remarked that Romana was absolutely perfect.

She furrowed her brow delicately. “Perfect? Really? I should hope not. That would leave no room for developments. And I intend to develop in many directions.” She placed a hand to her forehead. “Oh dear, I’m quoting again… I hate it when I do that, I can never remember who it was who said the darn thing.” She shook her head, her hair swinging with the motion. “And if I am indeed perfect, then can any one of you explain to me why the Doctor, the man destined to be my bond mate, is neglecting me?”

At the back of the room, Rose entered with Mickey, but they went unobserved by the others.

“He’s been to see my father,” Romana went on. “I hear he’s spent time with his friend, the Master. In fact, he’s probably gotten chummy with every crusty old man in Gallifrey. Clearly, the thought of visiting a beautiful, young princess with fabulous hair leaves him cold.” She flipped said hair over her shoulder with an indignant huff.

Mickey approached her then and bowed low. “Princess Romana, first in beauty and wisdom. The Doctor has not forgotten you. He knows you’ll be at the feast tonight in all your splendor. And he can hardly wait. But for now, he sends you this gift.” He gestured to Rose, who executed a curtsy, bobbing her head.

But Romana just rolled her eyes. “Another handmaiden? I don’t _need_ another handmaiden! Does this _gift_ have a name?”

“Rose,” she said at once.

Romana straightened. “Did you just _speak?”_

Rose wasn’t cowed by the lofty Time Lady at all. “My name is Rose, Princess. And I think you might wish to know--”

“How dare you!” Romana cried, stepping closer to the insolent ‘gift.’ “You do not lower your eyes, you do not tremble. Are you not afraid of me?”

“Do you want me to be?” asked Rose.

To Rose’s surprise, Romana’s mouth twisted to the side and she shook her head. “Not so much. I get that all the time. It gets old.”

“Then I am doing just as you please,” said Rose.

Romana looked at the blonde woman thoughtfully. “That’s true. You’re quite logical, for a human.” She waved one hand in a circular motion. “And you were saying something about…?”

“The Doctor.”

“Yes. What do you know of him?”

“Only that he is well,” said Rose. “That nothing went wrong during his mission, he and his team suffered no injuries. I thought you might want to know that.”

“I did,” said Romana, looking away, distractedly. “You see, I’ve been so…” She looked back at Rose. “You’re very astute, aren’t you?”

“Only on occasion,” said Rose, with a modest smile.

“Rose, Rose,” said Romana, as though musing over the name. “I’ve heard that somewhere. In a book.”

“It’s a plant,” said Rose. “A flower, from Earth.”

“Oh, Earth!” said Romana, her eyes lighting up. “I’ve read about Earth. Primitive culture, but incredibly creative in their solutions to things.” She came to Rose and threaded their arms together. Heading out of the baths, Romana towed her new servant with her. “Is that where you’re from?”

“Well, my gran was, but we were part of the settlement on the planet Torchwood…”

“Fascinating! I’ve never been off Gallifrey myself, tell me more!” She halted suddenly and turned around, making Mickey, who’d been following them, come up short. “Mickey, you may return to the Doctor and tell him I’m keeping her. Such a clever slave, and she knows about other planets! Oh, the Doctor knows me well, he really does.” With a smile, she turned back around and continued off with Rose. “Come with me to my chambers, you can help me get ready for the banquet. Did your gran ever talk about Earth?”

“All the time.”

“Oh, good! I want to hear all about it. Tell me about your little communication devices...”


	3. Chapter 3

The Doctor found Mickey in the private banquet hall, chatting animatedly with three slaves in dancing costumes. He startled when he caught sight of the Doctor and left the women to meet him halfway across the room.

“Mickey, was the Princess pleased with my gift?” the Doctor asked.

“Yes, my Lord Doctor,” said Mickey. “Rose managed to make herself indispensable in record time.”

“I’m not surprised,” said the Doctor with a little smile. “Did she tell you anything about herself? I’ve never met a woman like her before, I can’t help but wonder--”

“No!” Mickey interrupted. “Nothing!” He cleared his throat and took a breath, giving a small, awkward smile for his outburst. “She said nothing.”

Bowing, Mickey quickly made his way out of the banquet hall. The Doctor made to follow him, but was surrounded by the dancing girls who swept around him in an ecstatic display. Seeing that other influential Time Lords and Ladies were beginning to enter the hall, the Doctor figured he could ask his servant more questions later. He took his place at the long table, which was covered with delicacies, his chair two seats down from where Rassilon would be. Idly, he watched the dancing.

With a signal from the servants at the huge double doors, the musicians suddenly stood and blasted out an elaborate fan-fare. The Doctor and the others stood as Rassilon made his grand entrance on a special sedan chair, carried on the shoulders of Citadel servants. His hair was white and sparse, his face lined and sickly pale, his gray eyes watery. There could be no doubt that the Time Lord was quite ill.

Romana made her entrance as Rassilon’s chair was set down at the head of the table. Her gown was a draped gold confection, sleeveless, with dozens of pleats forming a sculpted bodice, like an origami creation. A shimmering train extended behind her from the waist, and diamonds like bright stars were woven into her elaborately braided hairstyle. She sat down in between Rassilon and the Doctor, who bowed to her appreciatively before sitting next to her. The rest of the court followed suit and the banquet got underway.

“You look lovely,” the Doctor said, leaning over slightly so he wouldn’t have to speak too loudly over the music.

“Thank you,” she said, a bit tersely, still upset that he didn’t come to see her beforehand.

“Is this, erm… the latest fashion?” he asked, fingering the gauzey material of the train, which draped around her chair elegantly.

“It is now,” she said, lifting her eyebrows in satisfaction. She turned to look at him, her eyes absorbing his appearance from head to toe and back again. “So, your expedition went well?”

He nodded. “Oh, yes. Under the diplomatic banner, we were able to record Skaro territory where no Time Lord has ever set foot before.”

“Really?” she said, her eyes brightening with interest. “That sounds very… scenic.” She placed her chin in her hand, her perfectly bowed lips curving upward in a flirtatious smile. “Maybe next time I’ll go with you.”

The Doctor’s smile grew bit stiff, but he said, “If you like, Princess. You might be able to meet some of the locals. Behind their battle armor, the Daleks are the stuff of nightmares. I woke up in a cold sweat on more than one occasion and a few of my team had to be submitted to the mental healers upon our return.”

Romana’s eyes grew wide and she turned away from him to take a bracing sip of her wine. “Then again,” she said, “I’m rather busy.”

Across the hall, at one of the other tables, Rose was assisting in the banquet by pouring wine. Another human slave passed her and briefly touched her arm, whispering, “Princess, the word of your arrival has spread through the Citadel slave quarters! Welcome!”

The woman continued about her business as Rose stared at her, gobsmacked, then turned to find Mickey, who was near the edges of the banquet. His expression grew apprehensive as he noted the fury on Rose’s face, but she grabbed his wrist, not allowing him to retreat.

“Mickey!” she hissed. “I _told_ you not to--”

“Okay, so maybe I told a person or two…” he said, shrugging. “But Princess, your people need to know!”

“Just because I was in a position of power on Torchwood, doesn’t mean that everyone will be excited about it!” She waved a hand at the people in the room. “Do you not get it? These are Time Lords! They’ve taken people from _loads_ of time periods, not everyone will recognize me as a princess!”

“They recognize you as someone with authority,” said Mickey. “Even if they weren’t there like I was, they see you as someone who could lead us, as a symbol of hope for freedom!”

The two servants stopped talking as the room fell silent and they saw that Rassilon was holding his chalice aloft. Rose returned to her work and Mickey slunk out a side door.

Rassilon nodded to the Doctor and toasted him in a slightly raspy voice. “Doctor, to a successful expedition. Thanks to the routes you have discovered, our armies will now be able to attack Skaro with overwhelming force. Eternals willing, this war will be brief, ending in Gallifrey’s complete and final victory.” The court drank to his toast and he looked at his daughter. “Romana, shall I continue?”

She smiled indulgently. “Whatever you think is best, father.”

He returned her smile and looked back to her betrothed. “Doctor. You came to me this morning with a request to set out on another journey, but I have a more important mission for you. I believe this to be a joyous assignment, although it will mean you can never leave Gallifrey again.”

The Doctor sat up straighter at this ominous sentence.

“I would only trust this task to a Time Lord I have long regarded as a member of my own family,” Rassilon continued, looking out to the crowd of people. “As you all know, the Doctor and my daughter have been betrothed for nine rotations now. Long enough, I’d say.”

He laughed, but it quickly dissolved into a debilitating coughing attack. Romana and the Master came to him on either side, taking away his goblet and gently loosening his mantle. He waved them away as if it was nothing, but it was enough to punctuate what he said with grave seriousness.

“I want to see her and our planet happily settled before my regenerations come to an end,” he said, breathlessly. He cleared his throat and struggled to sit up to make his final pronouncement. “Therefore, in seven days, the Doctor of House Lungbarrow will wed the Princess Romana. The king of Gallifrey has spoken.”

Romana leaned down and kissed her father’s cheek to show her appreciation for the announcement as various Time Lords gathered around the Doctor. They pounded him on the back and congratulated him. He plastered a bland smile on his face, but was saved from having to make any sort of grateful speech as Rassilon fell into another violent attack, coughing uncontrollably. The Master summoned the king’s personal servants and ordered them to take him away. Romana went with her father. Sensing the banquet was at an end, the other Time Lords and Ladies exited the hall rapidly, leaving Rose and another servant cleaning up, and the Doctor alone with the Master.

He lifted a goblet to the Doctor with a smile. “A toast to the groom,” he said. “If I’d known such an awkward bookworm would turn into such a stunning lady, I might have offered for her myself.”

“It’s not too late for that,” said the Doctor, frowning at his own chalice of wine.

“I thought you loved Romana?”

“Of course I do. We grew up together. She’s brilliant and lovely and…” He stopped, aware that he sounded like he was reading from a script. He’d given that same answer each time someone had asked him why they weren’t already bonded.

“Then, what is it?” asked the Master, suddenly irritated. He set the goblet down a little harder than was strictly necessary and stalked over to his friend. “Doctor, I’ve spent _years_ working toward this day. And you are not going to ruin it, not for yourself or me! _This_ is your new life. Get used to it.”

The Master left the hall without a look back. The Doctor took a sip of his wine and instantly spit it back into the chalice, remembering why he never drank. He thought of all the distant places and times he would never get to see and a hot rage filled him. He swung around and threw the goblet against the wall.

He startled as he saw Rose standing a few feet away. She and the other servant made to leave him and he found himself reaching out for her.

“No, wait, Rose…” He glanced at the other servant, then back to her. “Stay.”

The other girl departed with a shallow bow and Rose stepped forward, clasping her hands in front of her. “Yes, my Lord Doctor?”

He looked at her for a moment, observing the plain wrapped toga that she wore as if it were a grand mantle, the belt that emphasized her small waist, the sandals that showed her delicate toes, and the bun her hair was twisted into that made her eyes look even bigger.

“Where are you from, in Torchwood?” he asked, since it was the first thing that popped into his head.

“Vitex,” she answered. “It’s the--”

“The capital, yes, I know,” he said. “The water’s a completely different color there.”

“No, it’s a completely different color here,” she said, with a cheeky smile.

He couldn’t help but return it, his dark mood lifting somewhat. “That’s fair. Did you ever leave, do any wandering?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “I used to love going up the hills to look down at other parts of the country and visiting the places I’d find. Got scolded something fierce the day I climbed up a small mountain and lost track of time.”

“Why?”

“Well, I went by myself and my mother…” Rose glanced down at her hands. “She felt it was dangerous to go off alone.” She didn’t have to say that it was generally people out on their own who got taken by the Time Lords, unless they waltzed into a city and demanded tribute, the way they had with Mickey’s family.

“It’s good advice,” he said.

“She didn’t understand, though,” she said. “For nineteen years, I did nothing with my life. Nothing really meaningful. I needed to get away from where I’d been, to see if there was more to me than just…” She trailed off, but the Doctor nodded.

“I think I understand your meaning. I’m a good deal older than nineteen, and I still feel the need to get out.”

“How old--” She stopped herself, but he smiled in amusement.

“I’m one hundred and twenty, by your years.” Rose whistled low and the Doctor laughed. “I know, but I’m barely older than you, by Time Lord standards.”

She fidgeted with her hands. “Can I ask…”

“Yes,” he said at once.

“What’s it like… being able to travel anywhere, anywhen?”

He sighed and sat down on the edge of the low platform where Rassilon’s chair had been. He leaned back on his hands and looked up at the ceiling. “Like having wings.” He paused. “Wings that can travel forward and back in time.” She sat down next to him as he lost himself in a memory. “That first moment, when you look upon a new world and you see a whole new sky… You realize that the sunlight is different. Here, we have two suns, so it’s always direct and harsh, but elsewhere…” He shook his head. “There are places where it shimmers. There are some places where it is indescribably beautiful. When you go back far enough, to times where no one’s discovered anything, and you realize that your eyes are the first to witness the beauty of these places… it’s truly enchanting.”

“That sounds amazing,” said Rose, honestly. “To sail across the stars like humans would sail across an ocean. I'd love to experience travel that way.”

“I’ll take you traveling,” he said, smiling. “We’ll go to your grandmother’s Earth, use her stories as our guide.”

“Would you let me drive?” she asked, catching her tongue in her teeth.

“You’d crash us!” he said in horror.

“Oh, yes!” she grinned. “But only when there are no people around to get hurt. Then I’d jump out of your Tardis, kick off my shoes, and run. And there’d be no one to scold me and tell me to act more like a...” She inclined her head a bit. “...to behave.”

“No ties of time and space to hold us back, we could pursue any horizon,” he said.

“That would be wonderful,” she said, but her expression fell to one of sadness. “Even if it’s just a dream.”

His smile disappeared and he pushed away from the platform, pacing agitatedly. “You’re right. This is meaningless. I’ll never take you traveling, I’m never going to leave Gallifrey again! Instead, I’ll be made to sit on a throne and send others off on _their_ journeys. The fates of so many, looking to me, it makes me feel like I can’t breathe!”

Rose watched him, thoughtfully. “It sounds as though you’ve been enslaved as well.” He stopped and looked at her. “Not with chains, maybe, but with a marriage promise.”

He marvelled at her ability to see straight to the heart of a situation. “I suppose there are worse things that being forced to marry a princess.”

“There are,” she agreed. “But for you? They might as well have locked a collar around your neck.” She stood up. “We’re more alike than I thought.”

“You go too far.” He made a frustrated motion with one hand, the comparison making him uncomfortable. Perhaps because it was so accurate.

“No, I think you do,” she said, lifting her chin in challenge. “You're in charge of your life, there are no literal shackles on you. So, if you don’t like your fate, then _change_ it.” She turned to leave the room.

“Stop!” he called, but Rose kept walking, as defiant as ever. “I command you to stop!”

She disappeared around the corner. He dragged his hands through his hair, unable to understand his own words and actions. Why had it been so easy to tell her of his dreams, things he’d never even said to Romana, someone he’d known all his life. Rose was practically a stranger to him, someone he hardly knew, someone he would easily forget, given the lifespan of a human. It was a heartsbeat to a Time Lord.

And yet… he couldn’t get her out of his mind. That dream-like image of them traveling in a Tardis together, of him showing Rose new horizons and experiencing the wonder of the universe through her eyes… It warmed his hearts, even though he knew it could never be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: dub-con kissing, and a mention of body alteration, but no graphic descriptions.

Romana sat at her intricately carved alabaster dressing table, ringed with a large oval mirror, forcibly brushing her hair. Her swift strokes betrayed her agitation. Rose entered the bedchamber a moment later and went to stand behind her.

"Here, let me," she said, holding her hand out for the hairbrush and Romana gave it over. Beginning at the ends of the princess’ dark hair, Rose asked, "How is your father?"

Romana shook her head slightly, breathing out an exasperated sigh. "I don't understand it," she said. "And that's saying something for me. This illness came on so suddenly. Weeks ago, he was fine. And the healers have no idea what it is. If I could just have a look at the tests..." She huffed. "But they all tell me it isn't something a princess should trouble herself with. As if I shouldn't be bothered by my own father's health!" She looked sightlessly down at the table, tapping one finger on its surface. "Well, it was a magnificent feast, though. For the most part. Wasn't it?"

"Yes, Princess," Rose answered.

Romana covered her face briefly, as though trying to wipe the image of her ailing father from her mind. "Oh, there is so much to do to get ready for the bonding ceremony," she said, changing the subject to the other pressing matter in her life.

"Bonding," Rose repeated. "That's like marriage for Time Lords, yeah?"

"In a way, but much more intimate," said Romana. "It's a melding of minds, a telepathic bond that entwines us, that allows us to share our thoughts and feelings."

"That does sound... intimate," said Rose, unable to fathom someone being inside her head.

"I can't believe it's been nine rotations and we've done nothing in the way of preparations," said Romana, rolling her eyes. "I have seven days to oversee everything; from a bronzed entry statue of me, to the centerpieces of shlenk blossoms and arkytior, arranged to look like... me."

Rose offered a small, sympathetic smile. "It must be difficult."

"Planning a wedding?"

"Being a princess."

"Oh," said Romana with a little laugh. "You have no idea. The responsibilities can be... overwhelming."

"Your people must expect so much," said Rose.

Romana slouched the smallest amount, her smile fading. "It’s true. They want a goddess and I'm just--"

"You."

The princess' eyes met Rose's in the mirror. "You see more than you let on, don't you? You know that this facade I present is rather sad."

Rose shook her head. "The only thing that's sad, Princess, is that your life is full of great potential, and yet those around you dismiss it."

Romana frowned. "I graduated from the Academy with a triple first!" She pounded the dressing table with her fist. "But it's the _Doctor_ they're all excited to have as their new ruler. He barely squeaked by on his second attempt with fifty-one percent! And I have to smile and flutter and be pleased--"

"Oh, no, Princess," said Rose, coming to kneel at Romana's side so they were on the same level. She squeezed the woman’s upper arm, encouragingly. "I believe you're better than that."

Romana smiled at her servant. "Maybe one day, I'll believe that, too."

Suddenly, the door to the chamber burst open and the Doctor entered, catching the women off-guard. Rose and Romana both stood up.

"Doctor!" Romana exclaimed. "Rude! This is my bedchamber. You can't just... you know you shouldn't..." She cleared her throat, unused to being at a loss for words. She looked at the other woman. "Rose, leave."

Rose turned to exit the room with a nod, but stopped as the Doctor said, "No, stay. Pour the princess a cup of wine."

Rose crossed to a table bearing a carafe of wine and poured some into a goblet as the Doctor smiled charmingly at his betrothed.

"Trying to dull my wits, Doctor?" Romana asked, saucily. "You know it won't work. I'm far too smart to fall for that kind of thing."

He just kept smiling, trailing one finger over her shoulder where her gold gown left it bare. He nodded in the direction of the door on the opposite wall. "Is that your bed in there?" he asked.

Slowly, Romana nodded. Rose was certain that, if not for her superior physiology, the princess would have been blushing. "It is," Romana answered. She seemed to recover her smooth composure seconds later and one corner of her lips lifted flirtatiously. "It's covered in silk and stuffed with the feathers from three hundred trunkikes."

He leaned down, but didn't kiss her. They were almost cheek to cheek when he whispered, "Why don't you go in and I'll join you in a minute.”

Romana pulled back to look up into his eyes, thinking he couldn’t be serious, as she experienced a moment of indecision in her surprise at the suggestion. "Doctor, are you sure? We're to be bonded in seven days."

"We've been betrothed for nine rotations," he reminded her.

"Good point." With a little girlish giggle, Romana picked up her skirt and ran into the bedroom, the train flying out behind her.

The moment the door closed, the Doctor rounded on Rose, his face stormy, with none of the charm he'd just displayed to his fiancee. "You think you can speak to me like that, scold me like I'm a wayward child, then walk away? You think I won't have you sent off to the mines of Mount Lung, just because we’ve shared a few meaningful words between us."

Rose lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed with his temper. "I think you're forgetting that I am her property now," she said gesturing toward the bedroom door, "not yours." She turned to walk out of the bedroom and leave the two of them to their cavorting.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "Because I know that you were right."

Rose tripped over her own feet at that, managing to keep her balance, but she turned back around to stare at the Doctor in disbelief.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm shocked," she said, holding one hand to her chest. "Even on Torchwood,  you'd _never_ hear a man admit he's wrong."

Through the bedroom door, Romana called, sweetly, "Doctor! I'm ready!"

"I'll be right in, Princess!" he called back, mimicking her tone, but he looked right back to Rose, rather than follow through with his promise. "Rose, I was wrong. I've been selfish. If Rassilon doesn't somehow recover, Gallifrey will need a new leader, someone strong. I don't think that person is Romana."

"I don't know about that," said Rose. "I think people misjudge a lot about her."

"Doctor," Romana trilled through the door, "your engagement party is waiting!"

"You should go to her," said Rose.

"Were you nobility before you were captured?" he asked, ignoring her suggestion.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "There's nothing noble about me now."

"That's not true," he insisted. "You're noble and courageous. Very few Time Lords dare to speak so honestly. And considering that you're human--"

"Yes," said Rose, sarcastically. "We mustn't _ever_ forget that I'm human and a slave."

He was quite serious as he stepped closer to her and took her hand. "I might have a time machine, Rose, but I can’t change the past once I'm part of events. Even if I could, though..." He shook his head. "I'm not sure I would want to, since it would mean we would never meet. Rose, I--"

Romana interrupted whatever he would have said by stomping out of her bedroom, wrapped in a silken sheet. Rose and the Doctor sprang away from each other, but in her anger, the princess didn't notice anything going on between them. Her eyes were shooting blue fire as she marched right up to him.

"Doctor!" she shouted. "You barge into my bedchamber, waging a full-frontal attack," she gestured to the front of his trousers, belatedly realizing what a rude gesture it was. She stopped pointing in a hurry and put her hands on her hips as she cleared her throat. "So to speak. And now, you're stalling! Why?"

"Forgive me," the Doctor said. "I didn't realize--"

"There was a naked princess, lounging in her bed, calling your name," she said, glaring. "What, _exactly_ , didn't you realize?" She took a step away, then turned right back, pointing a finger at his nose. "You know what? Before our wedding night, have a cartographer draw you a map of the female body. Perhaps _then_ you'll be more inclined to come explore!"

The Doctor gaped at her for a moment, utterly at a loss, then scarpered out of the room.

"Was it something I said?" asked Romana. She gave a slight shrug, turning to look at Rose. "When we were Time Tots, we understood each other so well. Now, he's a mystery to me. Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

* * *

That night, Mickey fetched Rose from the princess’ chambers to lead her down beneath the Citadel where the slaves’ quarters were. His expression was apologetic and pleading all at once and Rose sighed.

“What is it now?”

“Well,” he said, rubbing the side of his neck. “I just thought I should warn you… Everyone’s kind of… expecting you, down there.”

“Expecting me, _how?”_ she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Look, everybody knows that I’m the one who can get things, since the Doctor basically leaves me to my own devices,” he said. “They’ve asked me to bring them… you.”

“Why?” she asked. “So they can see a reckless idiot dressed as a servant?” Mickey began to shake his head, but Rose stopped him when he opened his mouth. “No, that is what I am, Mickey. My mother told me not to leave the estate boundaries, but I wouldn’t listen. I took Gwyneth and my other friends up the mountain and that’s where the Time Lords found us.” She gestured at herself, at the uniform she wore. “I deserve this. And the slaves deserve a leader who thinks of them, not her own wants.”

“Rose, they want the Torchwood princess.”

“No, they want me to give them hope. And it’s knowing what they want of me that terrifies me!” she said. She held out one hand to Mickey, letting him see how it shook. “Each person down there, whether they know me or not, is going to compare me to leaders of their past. How can whatever _I_ do now be enough for them?”

Nevertheless, despite her fears, Rose allowed herself to be led down into the slaves’ quarters. The large rooms were dark, dingy, and crowded. They had shelter, but the mattresses lined side by side on the floor were stuffed with dried grass, the blankets made of coarse cloth. A long trough down the center of each room had a pump that brought in the regular brown water seen in Gallifrey’s lakes. These served as a washing up station for everyone, sponge baths with air temperature water.

Rose was at once surrounded by a multitude of people, and not just those she knew and not just humans, either. Her heart broke for a little Sylurian girl, a reptilian species, who’d had her tongue cut out because it was venomous, rendering her mute. She folded the girl into her arms, the cool green scales of her forehead against Rose’s shoulder. Everyone pleaded with her, calling her ‘Princess,’ begging her to give them hope for new life, because they’d rather be dead than suffer the squalor and shame of slavehood.

She was overwhelmed by their expectations, asking her for wisdom and courage when she was trembling inside. Rose wasn’t sure if she could do what they asked, but she kept smiling and reassuring them. She couldn’t show weakness to these poor, oppressed people, couldn’t express her doubt, not even to Mickey or Gwyneth. If she could make them believe in the dream of freedom… maybe it would be enough.

* * *

The interesting thing about Gallifreyan clothing was that, no matter how delicate or tough the fabric, it could all go into the washing machine together, and the same machine would do the drying. It was washing day and Rose was among the slaves sorting through the clothes and linens as she cared for Princess Romana’s things.

Across the room, the Doctor entered and began speaking with a Gallifreyan chemist, who was refilling the tubs of soap, about fabric cleansing. The Doctor was holding a glass jar with what looked like a sample of blue leaves in it, which he eventually handed over to the woman. She nodded and left the room. The Doctor turned and caught Rose staring at him. She looked hastily back down at the clothes she was folding. Her hair, worn loose that day, swept around to cover her face, but the damage was already done.

The next thing she knew, his voice was coming from over her shoulder. “You were watching me again,” said the Doctor. “These past four days, your eyes are always on me.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

“Do you think I can grant you your freedom?” he asked in return. “I will admit, you gained my attention from the first, you are undoubtedly beautiful, but I am not so easily led. I am not human.”

Rose sniffed, looking at him over her shoulder. “If I’ve been looking your way, it was only to see if your chalice needed refilling.”

“I have no chalice now,” he pointed out, spreading out his hands. “And yet, you are looking. You’ve _been_ looking.”

Rose picked up the basket full of colorful gowns and moved around him, walking to the hallway leading to the exit. “If you’ll excuse me, my Lord Doctor, I must return these to the princess’ chambers.”

He turned and followed after her. “I do not excuse you,” he said. “Stop there.”

She stopped near the door, biting her lip, but turned back around. “You wanted something from me?”

“Yes,” he said, coming to her. “I want to make your life easier, Rose. However I can. What can I do for you?”

She gestured back toward the room. “Help the slaves.”

“I want you help _you_ ,” he said, frowning slightly.

“And I am a slave,” she said. “I couldn’t bear to live in greater comfort thanks to your favor while people are living in terrible conditions below and still more are dying every day in your mines. You want my ‘affection,’ my Lord Doctor?”

His mouth tightened and his hand darted out, tangling his fingers in her hair at the base of her neck. Her eyes went wide, her mouth parting slightly, as he came close to her, their faces inches apart.

“I can have your ‘affection’ right here, if I command it,” he hissed at her, but then his hand loosened, his fingers massaging her scalp lightly. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment of their own accord. “I want to know if you feel anything for me,” he said, his voice softer. “Other than contempt.”

“I don’t know,” she said, honestly.

“Then let’s find out.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, expertly tilting his head for optimum pleasure of both parties. She would never know that he’d completed several mathematical algorithms in his head as they’d stood there talking, to figure out what the best possible way to kiss her would be. He wasn’t disappointed. Rose gasped and he took the opportunity to dip his tongue past her lips, to taste her.

She dropped the basket, the princess’ clothes tumbling about their feet, and without it between them, he pulled Rose closer, his arm wrapped around her waist. She placed her hands on his chest and for a moment, he thought she’d push him away… but they crept upward, tracing through his hair near his temples and around his ears, to twine through the longer hair in the back. He fairly purred at the sensation. A soft, answering sound came from her and, hesitantly, she darted her own tongue into his mouth. His hearts pounded like they were trying to burst from his chest.

“Rose, I just saw--” Mickey said as he came into the washing room hallway, but the rest of his sentence died as he saw Rose and the Doctor kissing.

They pulled away from each other, but it was far too late. Rose’s face was bright red as she looked at the ground. The Doctor just stared at her, half in disbelief, half in wonder.

Mickey swallowed, thickly. “Rose, Romana requests your presence.” He paused. “The princess.” He looked at the Doctor, a bit pointedly. “Your betrothed.”

Hastily scooping all of the fallen clothing back into the basket, Rose left the hall as quickly as she could, leaving the two men alone.

“Doctor?” Mickey ventured. The Time Lord seemed lost in another world.

He blinked and looked at his servant. “Mickey,” he said, as though remembering he was standing there. The Doctor put his arm around him and pulled the young man along as he left the hall, heading for the exit to the Citadel. “I need your help with something…”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW.

Romana had called for Rose so that she might have a companion on a walk through the city outside the Citadel. The two women had become closer over the past few days, with the princess treating Rose almost as an equal, always asking for her opinions. It was clear that Romana was troubled by the way she fidgeted with her parasol, but she made small talk about the wedding rather than divulge what was really on her mind. Rose indulged her, having found that Romana was fond of distraction, it gave her a brief respite from her responsibilities.

At last, they stood upon a hill, looking down at the various houses. Romana sighed as she looked down in a particular direction. “Why hasn’t the Doctor been to visit me again?” she asked, softly, at last confiding in Rose. “We are to be married in three days and yet…” She shook her head, her expression nervous when she looked over at her servant. “Rose, I must make things right with him.”

“Love is a difficult thing to understand,” Rose hedged, glancing away from her, afraid the princess might see the envy in her eyes.

Rose waved as she saw Gwyneth coming up the hill toward the Citadel, but furrowed her brow as she saw her friend’s hands were full of elegant orange fabric and she also clutched an ornate vase under one arm.

“Rose!” said Gwyneth, happily, then caught sight of Romana and bowed respectfully. “Princess.”

“Gwyneth, where did you get this?” Rose asked.

“From the Lord Doctor! He’s giving away all of his possessions and he’s giving them all to the slaves!”

The two women let Gwyneth pass to continue on her way to the slaves’ quarters while they made their way down the hill. As they neared the Doctor’s house, they saw a great crowd of slaves standing around. The Doctor darted up and down the steps, a bright smile on his face, as he grabbed belongings and handed them out to the people waiting. Clothing, baskets of food, jugs of wine, knickknacks… Mickey was also there, helping him to pass things around. Rose and Romana stood there with their mouths open for several moments.

“I’m amazed!” Romana declared. “He’s actually preparing to move into the Citadel!” A smile lit her face. “Whatever doubts he had last night must be gone.” She looked up at the bronze sun, which was setting, and closed her parasol, then laid her hand on Rose’s arm. “I should go back. But please, stay and apologize for me.”

Rose’s attention snapped to the princess at that. “Oh, no, please, I can’t.”

Romana just shook her head. “You can, you _always_ say the right thing. I never do.”

Rose’s expression was almost pained as she clutched Romana’s hand. “Please don’t make me.”

“I would never make you,” the princess said. “But I am asking you to. As my friend.”

Rose sighed, and nodded her head, unable to refuse. Romana smiled and turned to head back up the hill. Just as she disappeared over the crest, the Doctor caught sight of Rose and came toward her, leaving Mickey to finish up with whatever remained.

“Thank you,” Rose said, tucking her hair behind an ear. “I never thought you’d take what I said seriously. Did you really give everything away?”

“I took too much for granted,” he said, giving a light shrug. “It was nothing.” He paused. “Well, no, actually, it _was_ everything, but it doesn’t matter. I was just worried that you wouldn’t know it was for you.”

Rose looked down and blushed, biting her lip as she remembered why she was really there. “My Lord Doctor,” she said, formally, “I came to tell you that the princess is sorry for what she said the other night, and she wants you to know that--”

Not listening, he closed the distance between them and took her hand. “Rose--”

She backed away from him, pulling her hand free. “You are betrothed to my mistress!” she cried, her hazel eyes full of hopelessness.

“It was arranged by the Master and Rassilon,” he said, frowning at the gap she’d made. “It will be _unarranged_ by me.”

“Doctor, you’re a Time Lord,” said Rose. “Nothing will ever change that. You could leave in your Tardis tomorrow and rebuild all you’ve given away with a few changes in the right timeline. I don’t know why you even bothered to do this.”

He looked up and his deep blue eyes bored into hers, his expression so open and vulnerable, she gasped. “Don’t you?” he asked.

He stepped forward and took her hand again, this time, she let him, looking down to where their fingers were entwined. He brought his other hand to her cheek, encouraging her to look up at him. When she did, he saw the answer he was looking for. Smiling, he whispered, “Run!”

They did. They left the city behind until all that was before them were endless rolling hills of red grass and a distant treeline of shimmering silver leading up to scarlet mountains capped with white snow. The second sun was beginning to set in the North, creating a blazing skyscape of gold and red and umber. He looked back at Rose as she ran just behind him, the light making her hair sparkle like spun gossamer, her smile all he ever wanted to see.

Eventually, he stopped when she became too out of breath, far out in the fields of Perdition, and they flopped down together in the grass. He rolled onto his side so he could look down at her, her chest heaving, her hair wild. He reached out and tenderly brushed a strand of it away from her face.

“I don’t want the life they’ve set out for me,” he said. “Creating ambitions where I have none. I don’t want to live that way. I’m tired of rushing around, trying to distract myself from truths that don’t suit me.” He took her hand again, measuring how small it looked, compared to his long fingers, then threaded them together. “I don’t want to rush with you, or the time will be over before I know it. I want to love you slowly, gently, and freely.” Her expression fell and he hurried on. “I know. You want to tell me that we can never be together. But I have to tell you this. If I wait for the right moment, it may never come. I could wait forever, and you’ll be gone. I want to be with you, now and always, Rose. If you’ll allow it, my hearts are yours.” He took a breath, his courage bolstered by the soft emotions flickering on her face. “I hope… that however impossible it is, this confession can be the start of something.”

She reached up and touched his cheek. “It’s already started between us,” she said, before leaning up to kiss him.

He rolled her underneath him in the grass, kissing her with abandon. This moment had consumed him since he had kissed her earlier. Every touch of her lips stoked a fire within him that grew with each swipe of their tongues. He could taste the intoxicating flavor of her pheromones, and it made him feel lightheaded. She was utterly addicting, far more than any rare delicacy, and he suddenly was struck with the urge to taste her everywhere, wondering what tales her body would tell him. He savored the warm fullness of her mouth, so much hotter than his, and he wondered, briefly, if his coolness was uncomfortable for her.

The next moment, he allowed his physiology free reign to react, and was surprised by the rush of heat that flooded him, by the suddenness of it. Rose pulled back in shock as she felt the change in his temperature. She watched in wonder as his eyes dilated until the blue iris was almost completely swallowed by black and touched his face as his cheeks flushed pink.

“You were serious,” she said, smiling. She gasped again when he rolled his hips against hers, letting her feel the extent of his arousal.

She gripped the lapel of his robe and pulled him down to kiss him again. She moaned into his mouth as one of his hands found her breast, his fingers teasing the nipple through the fabric of her garment. He lifted his head, looking down at her eyes, darkened to the color of amber, her lips, wet and red from their kisses, and groaned. His body spurred him on, but his mind told him that Rose deserved better than to be taken in the middle of a field.

Climbing carefully off of her, he held down a hand and pulled her up. “Come on,” he said in a rough voice, nearly growling.

The run back to his house seemed to take much longer than the initial venture. So wrapped up was he in Rose and the myriad of emotions and chemicals swirling in his system, he’d forgotten what’d he done, prior to leaving with her. He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly, as they stood in his empty main hall. Luckily, his bedroom still possessed the bed with its soft mattress, even though it, too, was stripped bare.

The door closed behind them, leaving them with only the light from the moons and stars streaming through his windows, since all the lamps had been taken as well. He pulled her close, kissing her neck, unable to keep from smiling when she shivered. He undid the belt at her waist and threw it aside, then gently unwound the plain fabric from her body.

When it fell to the floor, his hands found her waist, then drifted up her ribcage to cup her breasts, high and firm, stroking her until she moaned again. She was petite, but not delicate, her waist narrow, her hips just the perfect amount of fullness. He let his gaze wander over her slowly, savoring the view, committing every detail to his memory.

He scooped her up in his arms and turned to the bed, laying her down on the bare mattress. His fingers lingered on her skin as he pulled back, not letting go of her until the last moment, then he straightened and began stripping off his clothing. His eyes never left hers as he pulled off his robes, then his shirt. His pale skin seemed luminous in the light of the moons, like an alabaster statue. She didn’t look away when he removed his boots and trousers with his pants. It was so like their first day together, and yet, so different.

He climbed onto the bed with her, stretching out alongside her body, the feeling of his skin against hers so decadent. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her again, a long, lingering kiss that felt so right. Her hands came around to his back, tracing the contours of his lithe muscles. He moved lower, pressing kisses along her collarbone and across her chest until he came to her breasts. He paused to take each nipple in his mouth, teasing them with his tongue and teeth until she writhed underneath him.

When his fingers traveled lower and found her, she was wet and ready, but he still took his time, teasing her to greater heights, relishing the burning heat of her, making her call out in pleasure and need. He stroked her with two of his fingers and circled the tight bud at her apex with his thumb, murmuring encouraging nonsense, until she erupted in a glorious spasm.

His patience gave out, he could wait no longer and moved over her, settling between her legs. His erection bobbed between them, hard and proud and demanding release. He tamped down the urge, forcing himself to move slowly, to ease himself inside her tight, hot wetness.

He was halfway inside when her hands flattened on his arse, pressing hard as she thrust her hips upward to meet him. He groaned as he suddenly found himself fully seated within her. Her muscles fluttered around him and she arched slightly as he began to move, slowly, rhythmically.

As the pace gradually sped up, his need for her also grew. It was as if he could feel tiny threads tying them together, binding their hearts. The responding emotion that rose within him was so strong, it frightened him. And yet, he couldn’t run. Urgently, he plunged within her, as if he could imprint himself upon her, needing to share this emotion.

Suddenly, it occurred to him that he could. If she would allow it. Oh, he hoped she would, because suddenly he wanted it, that most intimate of connections with her.

“Rose,” he bit out, “please-- I need--” Respiratory bypass or no, his inability to speak properly had less to do with lack of breath and more to do with everything he was holding back, mentally and physically. “Your mind-- share-- please--”

Her eyes shimmered with emotion and he realized it was because he’d asked, he hadn’t demanded it of her. She nodded, though she could only have the vaguest idea of what he wanted. His hearts swelled with her trust in him.

Leaning down on his arms, he pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. The sudden onslaught of colors and feelings made him go breathless. He realized Rose didn’t have the carefully ordered mind of a Time Lord, her human mind was a jumble of beautiful, bright chaos, all wrapped in the overall warmth that was her.

He eased forward the love he wished her to feel from him, and was shocked as he felt similar emotions being reflected back at him. He let her feel what she did to him, physically, sharing what it felt like to be sheathed within her, and suddenly, she was calling his name, her hands gripping at his shoulders and hair as she came and the sensations passed from her to him, pushing him over that precipice with her.

Throwing his head back, a hoarse shout ripped free from deep within his chest. He thrust deep inside, clutching her hips tightly, holding her in place, while his orgasm shuddered through him and he spilled into her, long and gratifying.

He fell down on top of her and she held him close to her single, rapidly beating heart. He heard it, pounding in counterpoint to his own quadruple beat. They were each slick with sweat, though his body began to instantly cool itself. Not wanting her to experience discomfort as his core temperature lowered, he carefully withdrew, smiling at her little whimper of disappointment, then rolled onto his back. He drew her in, tucking her close to his side, tangling their legs.

“Thank you, Rose,” he said in a whisper, not wishing to break the thread of intimacy between them by talking too loudly. “Sharing your mind, it was…” He blew out a breath. “Intense. And you accepted it so naturally. It was amazing.”

“Are we… We’re not bonded now, are we?” she asked.

“No,” he said with a slight chuckle. “We barely brushed the edges of each other’s minds. Bonding with one another involves full immersion. I’m not even sure if you’d be able to handle something like that. Human brains are very different.”

“I appreciate you not using the word ‘inferior.’”

“You heard it in my tone, didn’t you?”

“Might have done.”

He laughed softly. She was getting to know him too well already. “Are you cold?” he asked, rubbing her arm.

She shook her head, nuzzling his shoulder. “It’s too hot here to ever really be considered cold,” she said. “Still, you could have at least kept a blanket.”

“No, I couldn’t,” he said. “You deserved nothing less from me than everything. So, I gave everything.”

In the distance, a horn sounded and he lifted his head in query.

“What is it?” she asked.

“An army has returned,” he said, “it’s the horn of victory. There will probably be a celebration, Rassilon will see to that.” He leaned in and kissed her, all too briefly, then sat up and got to his feet, reaching for his shirt. “You should go back to the Citadel. They’ll be expecting me down at the Tardis docking port to catalogue anything they’ve brought back.” He pulled on his trousers, then paused. “Hang on…” He fished around in his pockets for a moment, then pulled out a flat, metal key, but the large end was cut with odd designs. “Here you go. Tardis key. If anyone tries to stop you, show them this and they’ll let you pass.”

He placed it in her hand and turned around, bending to pick up his robes. The fabric slipped from his fingers when he heard her whisper,

“I love you.”

He’d felt the emotion in her mind minutes ago, but hearing the words was something new. And wonderful. Beautiful. Addicting. He turned back.

“I heard that,” he said. “Say it again.”

A faint smile quirked her lips. “Are you commanding me?”

He shook his head, but before he could answer, a knock came at the door. A steward from the Citadel entered without waiting for his leave, making the Doctor frown in irritation. Rose turned her face away from the steward, the curtain of her hair hiding her features.

“What’s the meaning of this?” the Doctor demanded. “If you needed my attention so badly, why wasn’t I summoned telepathically?”

The messenger looked as though he might have run all the way, his hair was wild and his robes were askew. He swallowed before answering, “Begging your pardon, my Lord Doctor, we tried. Your mental shields were firmly in place.”

The Doctor pursed his lips, remembering what he’d been doing. He must have shielded he and Rose from mental intrusion automatically. He nodded. “All right, then, out with it. What’s going on?”

“The queen from Torchwood was just captured!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rose jerk. “What? And alive?” asked the Doctor, to which the steward nodded.

“Another army is soon to go back, to conquer the planet while they are without leadership. They will want your team to go along and catalogue resources.”

The Doctor nodded once, accepting the information. “Tell the others I’m on my way.”

The steward departed and the Doctor turned back to Rose. She had drawn up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. Her shoulders were shaking. Though her face was hidden and she made no sound, he knew she was crying. He sat down next to her, gently folding her in his embrace.

“Rose, this is what the Time Lords do. Right now, I can’t change it. I have to go.”

She lifted her head, her cheeks already streaked with tears. “But she’s my-- my queen.”

He touched her face, brushing at her tears with his thumb, his expression full of remorse. Unable to find the right words of comfort, perhaps there weren’t any, he got to his feet and grabbed his boots and robes and left the room. Hating himself.

* * *

There was chaos in the slaves’ quarters as the people from Rose and Mickey’s time period were panicking over the news about Queen Jacqueline, making the other servants as frantic as they. Rose sought Mickey out and they stood together as Mickey revealed that the queen was not dead, as everyone suspected.

“She is alive,” said Mickey. “I saw her being taken down to the prison.”

“But it’s only a matter of time before the Time Lords kill her, isn’t it?” asked Gwyneth, her large dark eyes filled with worry.

“If that is so, then there is no hope for any of our planets,” said a man, looking at his wife and small son in anguish. “We might as well give up. This is our home now. Our life.”

“That’s not true!” cried Rose. “Whether you are enslaved or far from your native soil, wherever and whenever you call home, it lives in your hearts. And therefore, it exists. In you. In all of you. You _have_ to keep believing. We may be scattered and divided from those we call our family, but they are never _truly_ gone if we keep their memory with us. We owe it to them to keep the dream of freedom alive!”


	6. Chapter 6

From her balcony, Romana watched the flurry of activity going to and from the Tardis docking port. She had dressed with care in an off the shoulder gown of red and blue satin, because after what she’d seen at the Doctor’s house, she had expected him to visit her. Of course, now that he was working, he wouldn’t come, but she had still hoped.

She sighed a bit and turned away from the landscape, going back inside her chambers. She sat down despondently in an armchair next to a table bearing several large books. Reaching for the top one, she opened it, but couldn’t focus and after a few moments of looking over the same page and not having the least idea what she had read, she set it aside in frustration. It was unusual for her, not to be able to lose herself in knowledge. Her thoughts kept returning to the Doctor.

It seemed so strange to her that the man she was to be married to in just a few days never showed her more affection than he needed to. Aside from when he’d burst into her room the other night, he’d always been respectful to her, bordering on formality. She rolled her eyes. Of course, he’d beaten a hasty retreat that night. That was more his style. To run whenever things became too complicated.

She’d thought it had been for them and their betrothal when she’d seen him giving away his belongings, but now she didn’t know what he was thinking. She was used to being able to stay a step ahead of people, with her quick mind, it was easy for her. The Doctor’s actions, however, had always been contrary, giving him a bit of a ‘mad genius’ bent. Perhaps it was just no use, trying to predict his moves.

Well, she didn’t have to like it. Frowning, she got up and went to her dressing room to change out of her gown. There was no one to see it but her, she might as well get comfortable and attempt to do some more reading.

Down at the port, the Doctor delegated most of the work, cataloguing whatever the army had brought in, to his team. He was required to stay, but he didn’t want anyone noticing how distracted he was, and they definitely would if he tried to do anything too complicated.

Had they known how much of his thought processes were taken up by his personal problems, they might have laughed at him. He was sure it was written all over his face. One minute, he would think about Rose and his hearts would leap, the next minute, he would remember Romana and his duty, then dejection would settle over him.

He knew he didn’t want the life set out before him… But did he have the courage to take the life he _did_ want? One path was easy, but filled him with dread. The other would be incredibly difficult, but the reward… oh, that would be so sweet.

Sighing, he attempted to distract himself for the moment by assisting his team. Perhaps they would believe it had just been too long since his last sleep cycle...

Rose walked slowly back to the Citadel. With the protection of the Doctor’s key in her pocket, she didn’t feel the need to hurry. She had to think, to clear her head, which felt fuzzed with wool, buzzing with confusion. There were so many questions.

She knew she loved the Doctor, but shouldn’t she feel more for her mother, her friends, and the other slaves held in captivity? Had the passion she’d shared with the Doctor compromised her position with the people who looked up to her? They couldn’t ever be together while they remained on Gallifrey, but where in the universe was there a place the Time Lords hadn’t touched? Would it ever be safe to love each other? Was she a leader to the slaves, or a traitor to them? Had she crossed so many lines, it was now impossible to go back?

She had no answers. Looking back down the hill, she could faintly make out the mountains in the distance, a darker line against the dark of the sky above them. She wished she could run to them and climb and pretend she had never left Torchwood… but in the next moment, the thought filled her with sadness, because then she never would have met the Doctor.

Her heart and her head felt pulled in two separate directions and she didn’t know what to do to unite them to one cause. Everything seemed hopeless.

When Rose returned to the Citadel, Mickey was waiting for her. He had a plan. Together, they made their way down to the prison, a damp, stone-walled place that smelled of refuse and had very little light. It wasn’t a large area, as Time Lords weren’t known for keeping prisoners for an extended amount of time, so there was only one guard at the door to the building.

Glancing around to make certain no one else saw them, Mickey approached the guard and pulled one of his bags of gold dust out of his side pouch. “A word with the prisoner,” he said.

The guard opened the bag, lifted his eyebrows at the contents, then nodded. “All right, but keep it short.”

He opened the barred door for them and allowed them both to pass. They walked down a hallway lit intermittently with small, glowing crystals, until they heard movement coming from a back cell. It sounded like the squeak of trainers from someone pacing a stone floor.

“Mum?” Rose ventured.

A pale face with light blonde hair appeared at a cell door, pink manicured hands gripped the bars. “Rose!”

“Mum!” She ran over, sticking her arms through the bars to embrace her mother as best she could.

Jacqueline clung to her, then pulled back, running her hands over Rose’s hair and looking her up and down, as though making sure that not a single inch of her had been harmed. “I knew you were alive, I knew you’d survive. I taught you well, I did, at least, I wouldn’t allow myself to believe anything else.”

Rose shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “Mum, what were you doing that you got yourself taken?”

“Looking for you, that’s what!” she snapped. “We were out pretty far, going off of what people had told us where they’d seen you. I had some guards with me, but they weren’t any match for the Time Lords.” She spat out the name of the species with disgust.

She looked at her mother’s bright pink track suit that was great for comfort while traipsing around a mountain, but not so good at camouflage. Rose sighed, wishing Jacqueline had at least worn something black. It probably hadn’t even occurred to her, not when getting her daughter back was the priority.

“Have they mistreated you?” Rose asked. She looked over her mother’s shoulder at the dry grass on the floor that served as a bed and the bucket in the corner that left little doubt as to what it was for.

Jacqueline shook her head. “No, they’re probably saving that for my execution. Three days from now.” Her voice shook only slightly, the Torchwood queen was made of stern stuff.

“It won’t come to that,” Rose promised. “We’ll get you out of here.”

“In two days, the daughter of the king will marry,” said Mickey, coming to stand at Rose’s side. “Most of the guards will be needed to control the crowds and everyone else will be in attendance.”

“And who is this?” asked Jacqueline, looking over Mickey appraisingly.

“Mum, this is Mickey,” said Rose. “You remember… Jackson’s boy? We were friends as kids.”

“Mickey, of course,” said Jacqueline, her gaze gone soft with nostalgia. “Your father was a great advisor to me. He had hopes you would grow up to be a scholar.”

He smiled briefly, but returned to his plan, knowing they didn’t have a lot of time to reminisce. “I found out the schedule for the guard change. The chief jailor will attend Romana’s wedding. They’ve assigned a lower guard to take his place and it’s a man I know.”

“Are you saying you might be able to bribe this guard?” asked Jacqueline.

“We’ve done business in the past,” Mickey hedged.

“That would take a lot of gold dust,” said Rose.

“I have it,” said Mickey. “I’ve been hoarding it for years, doing business with the merchant caste Gallifreyans. I thought, maybe, someday, I could use it to get back to Torchwood. But if I can send my Queen home--”

Jacqueline reached out and touched his shoulder, her turquoise eyes intense. “We will _all_ go back, Mickey. Soon. Now, are the docking ports patrolled and what can we use to get away in?”

“They usually have a few guards.”

“If there are a few, then more can be called,” said Jacqueline. “So, the odds aren’t good.” She eyed his arms. “Can you use a weapon?”

“Heh.” Mickey offered an embarrassed smile. “Actually, I think I’m better at providing encouragement from the sidelines.”

“We shouldn’t need to fight,” said Rose. “We can get past them with this.” She took the Tardis key from her pocket and Mickey gasped.

“The Doctor gave you that?” he asked, incredulous.

“Who is this Doctor?” asked Jacqueline, narrowing her eyes. “A Time Lord?”

“Yes,” said Rose, “but he’s not like the others, mum.”

“Did he not help the others plunder our planet for people and resources?” she asked.

“He regrets his past,” said Rose, adamantly. “I know him--”

“Rose!” Jacqueline said sharply. “Are you telling me this Time Lord regrets the humans taken into slavery or slain by his people? Any soft look you have given this Doctor, any soft word, betrays the innocents who suffered at the hands of every Time Lord he could have stopped. Do you understand me?”

She looked down, biting her lip. She wanted to argue, but her mother had a point. The Doctor could have chosen at any time to stand up to his people if he was bothered that much by their way of life. It had taken Rose to challenge him before he’d seen it. But to Rose’s mind, being with her had made him better.

Jacqueline huffed out a breath, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t have thought it possible that these Time Lords could give me one more reason to hate them.”

Mickey went on to explain to the queen that just past the Tardis docking port was the scrap yard where other space ships lay, waiting to be stripped for parts. He knew of a Chula War Ship still in working condition that used voice commands and auto-pilot, easy enough for any of them to navigate. The tricky part would be learning if it still had power and fuel without arousing suspicion, but Mickey said he would try to find out.

Rose only listened to the plan with half an ear, her heart in turmoil. Her mother and her duty to the slaves were telling her to forget how much she loved the Doctor and put everything she wanted aside. Surely, she could find a new love once she was back on her own planet and everything was behind her. Surely, with distance and determination, the magic feeling that soared within her whenever she was with him would die.

They had only had that one moment of passion. Surely, the ties she felt were barely binding. She could break free and pretend she’d never known his kiss and his touch and what he looked and sounded like when they made love. Surely, he wasn’t so far entrenched in her heart that she couldn’t remember her contempt for his species.

Oh, if only it were that easy.

Her hands could still remember the way his skin felt, damp with sweat, because he’d let go of his control and allowed his physiology free reign. Her mind’s eye could see the way he would smile when he caught sight of her. These instances of the Doctor crawling into her heart were not slowing down, they were increasing, and now, she was being told to throw it all away.

Because she could also see the faces of worn, defeated people, tired of living under the feet of their ‘superiors.’ Not just those she’d met on Gallifrey, but the faces of those who still lived on Torchwood, who would be conquered without their queen to lead them. She could see the disappointment in her mother’s eyes, if she were to claim cowardice and run.

It was the hardest thing she’d ever have to do. Because she knew she’d remember him and the way it felt to be with him until the day she died, but she also knew she had to choose the needs of the many over her own wishes. She would have to leave him for another kind of love, the love of her family and people, for the burden of guilt over so many lives was too heavy to bear.

As much as she wanted to take the easy path, she knew she couldn’t.

* * *

In the Gallifreyan High Council room, Romana frowned up at the large map of the universe projected into the air. There was a red mark for each planet the Time Lords had conquered. It turned until it was horizontal, then multiplied itself upward again, projecting the universe at different points in time, and the graph now showing when the planets had fallen.

“But why did we invade Omega?” she asked, pointing to one of the very first planets that had been taken.

The Master, who was manipulating the controls to scroll through the timelines, glanced at her and smiled. “Omega had the technology we needed for time travel. Without a Time Sense like we have, they couldn’t use it, it was just going to waste. With Omega under our control, all of time opened up for us.”

“Yes, but our armies just stormed in and seized power?” she asked, still frowning, wishing she’d thought to ask more questions about their tactics ages ago. “How oppressive of us.”

The Master shrugged. “Perhaps, Princess. But without the access to fifty-third century Tramdale, where would that beautiful necklace have come from?”

He pointed to the exquisite creation of swirling rose gold and teal colored teardrop gems at her throat. Romana touched it with her fingers, then removed it, placing it on the holo-screen, which obscured the view of the map.

“It’s suddenly not so beautiful anymore,” she said.

The Master’s brow clouded, but it cleared a moment later as the Doctor strode into the room. “Ah! Theta!” he said, smiling. “I was just explaining our inter-planetary campaigns to Romana.”

“Really?” asked the Doctor, lifting his eyebrows in surprise as he looked at her.

“Yes,” said the Master, taking Romana by the elbow to bring her to the Doctor’s side. “She wanted to know what’s been preoccupying you of late.”

“Doctor, I feel like we haven’t had a moment alone since you returned from Skaro,” said Romana, her expression troubled. “I miss you. Can’t we spend this afternoon together?”

The Doctor blinked. He wasn’t sure how to deal with Romana being so open with him, he was used to her being cool and collected. Apparently, his absence had affected her more than he thought it would. “Of course,” he said, smiling in reassurance. “Of course, we can. Erm, but first, I’d like to have a word with the Master.” He reached out to the docking station near the holo-screen and grabbed a data recorder. “Here, you can read this while you wait.”

She pressed her thumb to the scanner and read the top line. “‘The Campaign at Venglarine 7.’”

“It will give us something to talk about,” he said with an encouraging smile.

“I didn’t realize we were at a loss for topics,” she said. Her eyes slid to the projected map one more time as she added, “But then, there’s a lot I haven’t realized.” She took the data device with her as she left the room.

The Doctor turned and glowered at his friend. “That was clever of you,” he said.

The Master tsked at him. “I can’t have you neglecting the princess. Not after all the trouble I’ve gone to.”

“You arranged a marriage,” the Doctor scoffed. “How hard could that possibly be?”

“Harder than you think,” the Master snapped. “And I’ve done more than that. There have been all kinds of arrangements made on your behalf.”

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. He knew the Master could be ruthless in order to get what he wanted. “I haven’t asked you to do anything for me.”

The Master placed one hand to his cheek as though in surprise. “No, you’re right, you haven’t!” He dropped the facade and looked at the Doctor derisively. “Because you’ve been too busy whiling away the hours with that slave girl.”

Instantly, the Doctor’s temper boiled to the surface. “Oh, your spies are good,” he said, circling the other man.

The Master merely circled the other way, an expert at the dance. “Doctor, you can have your little diversion, plenty of Time Lords indulge themselves with the novelty of it. Just wait until after you’ve wed!”

“Are you speaking from experience?” asked the Doctor.

The Master sniffed. “Please. They’re so unevolved, it would practically be bestiality.”

The Doctor’s mouth tightened and hands balled into fists at his sides. He turned to leave before his temper got the better of him, though his mind was screaming that the Master deserved whatever he got.

Of course, his friend wouldn’t let it go. “Don’t you realize that whore could cost you the throne?”

The Doctor rounded back, shouting, “I don’t care about the throne! I’m not _you_ , Master! And I never will be!”

The Master laughed. “Oh, you’re not, are you? Are you forgetting you went along with every single one of my schemes in our Academy days? You loved every minute of it! We’re just alike, Doctor, it’s like looking in a mirror.”

“I can’t deny I’ve done wrong in the past, and enjoyed thumbing my nose at the stuffier Time Lords,” said the Doctor, seriously. “But I’ll own my mistakes. And that’s what listening to you was… a mistake.”

“We could have the whole universe at our command!” said the Master, gesturing up at the map. “Do you really want to throw away your future? All for some human slave?”

“She has a name!” the Doctor spat.

“Pah,” said the Master, dismissively. “In a handful of years, you won’t even be able to remember her name. Humans come and go, while we remain!”

The Doctor just shook his head, finished with the Master’s arguments. “Forget your plans, Master. There isn’t going to be a wedding.”

The Master stared in horror as the Doctor left the room without another word. It was completely backward. They’d always worked together, the Doctor always capitulated to what he wanted. “He’s lost all sense of reason,” he muttered to himself, dragging his hands through his dark brown hair, his rage growing hotter by the second. “And why? Some human SLUT!”

He violently kicked over a table, scattering its contents across the room. “This is treason!” The Master could see all too well that the door of opportunity was closing, and fast. He had to do something. He had to…

He smiled. He had to get rid of the problem.

Throwing open the doors to the council chamber, he called for guards. Two came running. “Find the slave girl called Rose,” he instructed. “And when you do… kill her.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the death starts. One minor character and one major character in this chapter. If you know the opera or musical this is based on, then you know who it is. *showers you all in hugs and chocolate*

Despondent and downcast, Rose was sitting on a chair in the slave quarters, content to let the others move around her as she pondered the events of the next day. Even the chair made her sad, as it was one of the things the Doctor had given away.

At length, however, a short alien girl with blue skin and cat-like yellow eyes approached her, breaking her out of her thoughts. “Rose?” she asked, and Rose looked up. The girl held out a sealed envelope with a swirling design in the red wax, the Time Lord’s language. “I was asked to give this to you.”

Rose thanked her and moved to a quiet corner to open it. She pulled out a slip of creamy paper with elegant, spidery script upon it, written in English. In her imagination, she could hear the Doctor speaking the words as she read,

_“I’m sorry for what I said. And everything that I didn’t say, but should have. I tend to put on a good face, but I always run when things get complicated, and I’ve complicated things right and proper this time. So, please forgive me as I muddle through this apology._

_“I wish everything could be simple between us. I don’t want this world, I only want you. I wish I could be with you right now, to tell you this face to face, as you deserve. But again, if I waited for the right time, it might never come. So, this letter will have to do. I’m sorry. And I love you.”_

He’d signed it with a complicated series of concentric circles and connecting lines that she assumed was his real name, not his chosen title, but under that he’d written, “Your Doctor.” Rose smiled, forgetting everything else for a moment, as she basked in their love.

“Rose!”

It was Mickey, calling for her. She stuffed the letter and envelope into her pocket as he came into the room with a large number of others, grinning.

“Tomorrow, Princess, you and your mother will be free!” he said.

Gwyneth was smiling. “Someday we’ll tell our grandchildren of the Queen’s great escape.”

“The humans, er…” Mickey looked at the slaves who weren’t human and nodded apologetically. “The non-Time Lords,” he amended, “will prevail!” Everyone but Rose clapped enthusiastically. Then Mickey held up a hand sharply, bringing their mirth to a sudden stop. “Quiet,” he hissed.

A commotion was heard near the entrance, then heavy boots stomping down the hall toward them. Mickey grabbed ahold of Rose while the other slaves gathered around them, protectively. At the back of the crowd, Rose was hidden from the two Gallifreyan guards that entered.

“We are here for the slave called Rose. Which one of you is she?” one guard asked.

Before Rose could speak, Mickey clamped a hand over her mouth. More slaves blocked them from view as Gwyneth stepped forward.

“I am Rose,” she said, her chin raised.

Rose struggled to free herself, but Mickey held her fast as the guards pulled Gwyneth out of the quarters. The other slaves didn’t move away until they heard the door to the entrance close. When Mickey at last released her, Rose fell to her knees, shaking with horror and anguish.

“Forgive us, Princess,” said Mickey, quietly. “But you can’t be sacrificed. Every person here would risk their lives for you.”

She looked up at him in disbelief, seeing what her role was to be. She scrambled to her feet and stumbled out of the room, heading for the back exit. Mickey followed her.

“Where are you going?” he demanded to know, but she didn’t answer him, wouldn’t even look at him as she kept walking, leaning one hand against the wall for support. He frowned. “You’re going to meet _him_ , aren’t you?”

“Mickey, I’m not asking you to understand,” said Rose. “Hell, I don’t understand it myself. But I have to go to him.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

“I do!” she said. “I have to--”

“No!” he said, louder in his anger. “You can’t give yourself to him! The Time Lords have taken enough from us! You are _our_ Princess, our inspiration, our promise of a new day.” He grabbed her arm, making her look at him. “Listen, sometimes love _should_ conquer all and damn the rest of it, but only if that selfishness can lead to something good, something better.”

Rose paused, looking at him sadly. “I’m sorry, Mickey.” She shook off his arm and opened the back door, running out as fast as she could.

He stared after her, disbelief written large across his face. “I thought I knew you.”

* * *

The Doctor sat in the grass among the silver trees in his back garden that night, looking up at the moons. He’d spent most of the day with Romana, letting her talk about the wedding. He hadn’t the heart to break it off with her yet, he had to come before Rassilon first. He would do that in the morning and use this time to quiet his mind and gather his courage.

He startled slightly as he heard the back door of his house open and close and he looked over his shoulder to see Rose coming toward him. He scrambled to his feet and faced her. Her expression was the picture of hopelessness and uncertainty, and he moved to meet her, taking her in his arms.

She fell into his embrace, kissing him passionately, and he could feel the desperation in it. He wished he could make her forget whatever had troubled her, but he knew things were not that simple for them. He held her, smoothed her hair away from her face, offering what comfort he could with his presence and his love.

He kept her within the circle of his arms as she pulled back. “I thought you were at the Citadel--”

She shook her head. “The guards came for me. But they took another.” Her face crumpled in sadness. “It was Gwyneth. My friend.” She leaned against him, resting her forehead against his clavicle. “I blame myself.”

“No,” he said, holding her closer, tangling his hand in her hair. “It’s my fault. I’m the one who put you in danger. But I promise, it will never happen again. I’m calling off the wedding. We’ll leave in my Tardis and never look back. We’ll sail the stars, Rose... I’ll even teach you how to navigate the Vortex!”

“Oh, Doctor--” she began, smiling, then stopped, her body going rigid as she realized that if the Doctor called off the wedding, it would ruin the escape plan for her mother. “No, you can’t!” she said, pulling back to look at him with wide eyes. “You can’t call off the wedding!”

Confusion clouded his brow as she stepped out of his arms. “Yes, I can, and I will,” he said, moving forward, but she kept retreating, walking backward away from him.

“I love you, Doctor,” she said, her voice shaky and quiet, “but you must marry the princess tomorrow. What you want for us is impossible. You’d be committing treason, they’d hunt us down! It’s foolish!”

“I don’t care,” he said, cornering her against one of the trees. He leaned a forearm against the trunk over her head, bending down so their faces were close together. “I will find a way for us to be together.”

When he moved to kiss her, she covered her face and shook her head. “I came here to tell you we can’t ever be together, and then I saw you and forgot everything I was supposed to say. It can’t be easy, can it? A couple of words and then…” Her breath hitched and she lowered her hands to reveal eyes that were full of tears. “And then, I spend my whole life wondering if you ever think about me.” She smiled, sadly. “That one human you once loved so long ago.”

“You don’t have to wonder,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. “You won’t have to ask, because I’m telling you now… Every moment of my life, and the next, and the next, as my regenerations come and go, I will be thinking of you. When I sleep, I’ll be dreaming of you.” He frowned. “How can such a perfect thing as love be so confounded? Is it some kind of karmic judgment? Is it written in the stars? I only have you for such a brief amount of time to begin with...”

“Maybe it’s the whole reason we met,” she said. “So you could help the slaves by marrying the Princess.”

He laughed shortly and without humor. “The Eternals’ idea of a cruel joke. ‘Have the Time Lord fall in love with the human, give them paradise in each other, but only one small moment of it, then rip them apart!’”

“But maybe they did it to inspire us to a greater purpose,” she said. “This could be our chance to do something important.”

He sighed. “Is it terrible of me that I don’t care about all that?”

“You do care,” she insisted. “I see it in you, otherwise this wouldn’t be so hard for both of us.” She traced the side of his face, the tight line of his clenched jaw. “You’re all I ever wanted. In my darkest moments, I wish I’d never found out what it was to be in love with you and have your love in return.”

He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, seeking out the warm tendrils of her thoughts. She embraced him, physically and mentally, doing her best to reach out to the unfamiliar presence in the forefront of her mind. They stood there for a long time, wrapped in one another, because they knew they wouldn’t get another chance.

“I will do as you ask,” he said, finally. “But you must do something for me as well.” He pulled back to look down at her. “Go home and leave Gallifrey forever.”

“What are you saying?” she asked.

“Tomorrow, I will make certain there is a ship waiting for you at the end of the docking port, already programmed to return you to Torchwood.” He attempted a half smile. “At least I can have _some_ happiness while I marry Romana. I’ll be able to go through with it, if I know that you are free.”

He leaned down and kissed her one last time, holding her as tightly as he could, wanting to memorize what she felt like, tasted like, what her kiss and her love did to him. It was over too soon as she tore herself away and ran from him, flinging open the back door to his house and disappearing into the dark interior. His hand hung in the air, reaching for her. He let it fall limply to his side and knelt on the ground, dragging his fingers through his hair.

Rose paused just inside the house, falling against a wall and clutching at her stomach as she sobbed. The Doctor had provided a way, better than Mickey’s plan of a ship that might not have power or fuel. The irony of it was breaking her heart in two. Dashing the tears from her eyes, she continued out of the house, hurrying back to the Citadel.

Soft footsteps sounded on the bare floorboards. Silently, Romana closed the back door which Rose had left hanging open. Her mouth was set in a grim line. She’d come to the Doctor’s house to talk with him one last time before they would be separated prior to the ceremony. She hadn’t realized what she would stumble upon. She’d seen everything from the back window, her superior hearing allowing her to be party to their entire conversation, or at least enough of it for her to know the truth.

Romana wondered how it had come to this as she slowly left the house and followed Rose’s path back up to the Citadel. She wondered how she could have closed her eyes to so much for so long. Not just about the Doctor, whom she’d wasted nine rotations of her life upon, but about everything to do with Gallifrey.

She knew she couldn’t fault the Eternals or some kind of prophecy in the stars the way the Doctor had postulated… She had only herself to blame.

The morning dawned bright and clear, the second sun setting the silver forest ablaze with light. Romana saw none of it, though she hadn’t slept. Four handmaidens presented her with a fantastic wedding gown of red silk and lace, a shimmering cape of orange gossamer trailed from her shoulders fifteen feet behind her, trimmed in shining gold thread. She stood lifeless as they dressed her and arranged her hair, still reeling with the shock of what she had witnessed the night before.

What she couldn’t understand was why she still loved the Doctor. Why, when there was nothing there? Was what she felt even truly love? They’d grown up together and been betrothed for such an extended period, she might have just been going along with it because it was expected. Did she love him the way Rose seemed to? Or was it merely high esteem? She didn’t know, she’d never experienced the kind of love one would sacrifice everything for. How could she go on with her life, pretending she didn’t know or didn’t care that his hearts lay elsewhere? She supposed she had to now, it was too late.

She looked out of her balcony at the stream of people moving into the Citadel to witness her wedding. Hands clasped in front of herself, she stood perfectly straight, like a life-size doll.

* * *

The grand hall was swathed in crimson and gold with large bunches of white and peach colored flowers that gave the air a light, clean fragrance. Glass orbs floated near the ceiling, each one containing a tiny star that sparkled and set off a myriad of reflections. A long silver and gold runner, strewn with red blossoms, divided the huge crowd of Time Lords, all dressed in the ceremonial robes of their caste and house.

The Doctor took his place at Romana’s side in his formal titian colored robes, complete with a heavy shoulder mantle and an ornate headpiece, both decorated with gold fittings. He offered his arm and she placed hers on top of it.

Romana looked at him sidelong as they walked down the aisle. The Doctor’s face was a pale blank mask. He looked numb and duty-bound, which was appropriate, she thought, since it was about how she felt. They stopped before Rassilon, who was presiding over the ceremony from his sedan chair, looking sicker than ever. He gestured to them with one hand and they knelt, facing each other, on a special low platform.

“As witnessed by the Eternals and all of Gallifrey joined here,” Rassilon said in a raspy voice, “I pronounce you life companions. May your lives be forever filled with the joy of this moment. May the bonding commence.”

The Doctor and Romana joined hands, but before they could begin bonding their minds, a guard burst into the hall, startling everyone.

“My Lord Rassilon,” he shouted, “the Torchwood queen has escaped!”

“What?” said Rassilon, sitting up straighter. “Call out the rest of the guards, fan out across the city!”

Remembering Rose, the Doctor leapt to his feet and raced out of the hall, his headpiece flying off and landing on the runner. Romana made to follow him, but he was swallowed in the chaos of everyone scrambling to organize themselves and do Rassilon’s bidding.

* * *

Rose, Mickey, and Jacqueline hurried down to the docking port. They could see the ship the Doctor had promised waiting toward the end. It was small, but that was probably for the best, it would draw less attention. Rose wore the Tardis key around her neck on a long, thin chain.

A loud, piercing blast sounded from the direction of the Citadel and Mickey hurried the two women along. “Come on, they’ve sounded the alarm.”

Pressing the Tardis key to the access panel, the door to the ship opened and Jacqueline climbed aboard, just as the Doctor ran down the port. Rose saw him, her eyes lighting up in spite of the situation.

“Doctor!” she cried.

“Rose, come aboard!” called Jacqueline, waving her hand.

“I’m sorry, mum,” said Rose, and she ran to the Doctor, needing one last moment with him.

“Rose, you are my daughter, now do as I say!” Jacqueline shouted.

The Doctor skidded to a halt, staring at the queen, his mouth slightly parted. It didn’t take a Time Lord to put it together. His hearts felt like they bled from the force of Rose’s betrayal. “Of course, you’re the Torchwood princess,” he said as she stopped in front of him. “You had me marry Romana just so your mother, your queen, could escape. You must have had a good laugh at the idiot Time Lord who fell for your act. It was all lies. Every word, every touch!”

“No!” she cried. “But too many people have suffered. I couldn’t let myself be selfish.”

“So, the end justified the means and you lied to me.”

“Not when I said I love you,” she said, fiercely. He looked uncertain. She came closer, reaching for his hand. “Doctor, you’ve been inside my head. Tell me you know I love you.”

Before he could answer, the Master appeared at the end of the port with a guard. He stared as he saw the Doctor with Rose, who was supposed to be dead.

Mickey pushed past Rose and the Doctor, pulling an electrical probe out of the pouch at his side and brandishing it threateningly. “Both of you, stop!”

The Master pushed the guard forward and the two men scuffled briefly. The guard was an expert fighter, but Mickey was fast and unencumbered by armor, he was able to zap the guard into unconsciousness without too much difficulty. He pointed the weapon at the Master, calling over his shoulder, “Go, Rose!”

The Doctor grabbed Rose’s hand and pulled her toward the end of the port. “Get in the ship, Rose,” he said, “this is your last chance.”

Suddenly, Mickey screamed and the two of them turned around in time to see him fall to the ground, lifeless. The Master held his laser screwdriver aloft, mockingly.

“Mickey!” Rose screamed, pulling away from the Doctor and running to her childhood friend.

There was no more time. The other guards would be there soon. His lips tight, the Doctor made a decision and pulled his sonic screwdriver from his pocket. He aimed it at the ship where the Torchwood queen still waited, just inside the open door.

“Doctor, no!” yelled the Master who ran to stop him, but the Doctor didn’t listen.

He pressed the button and the ship’s door closed, to the very vocal protestations of the queen. He pressed it again and a different whirring sound emanated from the slim silver device. Moments later, the engines fired and the ship lifted off, going into hyperspace at once.

The Master came to a stop at the Doctor’s side, he was too late. “What have you done?”

When the Doctor looked at his former friend, his eyes were dull, accepting of his fate. “It’s over, Master,” he said, pocketing the sonic. “When they come for me, they’ll take you away, too.”

The Master’s gray and copper eyes widened. “No-- that can’t-- I was going to have all of the universe at my disposal! Gallifrey needs me!”

“You’re the one who tied your destiny to mine,” he said with a shrug. “I will give you one piece of advice, though, in the spirit of our long friendship.” He leaned closer and whispered, “Run!”

For once, the Master listened to the Doctor. He ran into a nearby Tardis and dematerialized from the planet.

The Doctor looked down the port and hurried over to Rose, who was holding Mickey in her arms and crying. He knelt down beside his servant, checking for any signs of life, but he could already tell that there wouldn’t be. The Master’s aim was too good.

“He-- it should’ve-- been him,” said Rose, brokenly. “He should have been the one-- to lead the slaves.” She sobbed. “It was him who inspired me.”

The Doctor drew her into his embrace, stroking her back. “He died fighting for the princess of his planet and a Time Lord who’d shown him kindness. He showed great courage. More than I ever had. I admire him.”

As more guards descended on them, the Doctor slowly got to his feet with Rose in his arms. No more running. He would face what was coming with Rose at his side.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, more death, but IT ISN'T THE END.

Rose and the Doctor were escorted by armed guards to the Judgement Hall, where they were forcibly separated to be put into chains. As Rose was pulled off to one side, Romana entered and approached the Doctor, still in her wedding attire.

He smiled sadly at her. “Hello, Romana. I’m sorry. I’ve spoiled your wedding day.” The smile fell and he looked at her with remorse. “I never meant to hurt you.”

In the next room, where they would receive sentence, a roll of drums sounded, announcing Rassilon’s arrival. A multitude of footsteps shuffling followed, the ministers and soldiers taking their seats in the upper levels of the round chamber. The Doctor could picture it all, he’d been there before, but this would be the first time he’d be looking up from the judgment platform.

Romana grabbed the Doctor’s hand, speaking quickly and furtively. “Doctor, if you deny everything, there is still a chance. My father might spare you this life. Please, you must listen to me, this will cost you a regeneration!”

He remained calm. “And what will they do to Rose?”

Her mouth tightened. She knew there was no hope for the servant. “They want to bury her alive.”

“That is what we do to traitors,” he agreed. “But for us, it’s like one of those games we played as children. You lose a life, but you can come back.” He shook his head. “Not Rose. She has one life.”

“Doctor, you must say that everyone is wrong and--”

“No, Romana,” he said. “I won’t abandon Rose to face her fate alone. She is everything I thought I was meant to be, but her courage and her love and compassion for others have put me to shame. Every act of my life has been meaningless, except for this.”

She sighed, knowing his mind was set. “Did you ever love me at all?” she asked, feeling she deserved that much.

“Romana.” He touched her cheek with a gentle smile. “I loved you all my life.”

A guard came and grabbed the Doctor by the arms, pulling him away to the armorer for his shackles. Romana looked to where the other guard was roughly handling Rose, forcing her to her knees.

“Take your hands off of her!” Romana shouted, angrily. She stormed over to the man and flung his hand away from Rose. Kindly, she helped her friend to her feet with a smile. “After all, she is a Princess.”

The guard backed away and Rose looked at Romana in regret. “There were so many times I wanted to tell you everything,” she said, sadly. “I just couldn’t.”

“No wonder you understood me so well,” said Romana.

“Princess, you must believe me,” Rose pleaded. “I am to blame for what happened, not the Doctor. Please, let him live. Romana, please, let him live.”

Romana shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Rose insisted, not willing to believe there was nothing that could be done. “You love him. Don’t you love him?”

The doors to the Judgement Hall opened before Romana could answer and she withdrew to take her place beside Rassilon. Rose and the Doctor were led onto the platform. With their hands in shackles, they faced one another in order to hold each other’s hands. The Doctor squeezed Rose’s fingers and winked at her. She gave him a small smile, amazed that he could offer her comfort in such a situation.

“Let us begin,” said Rassilon. He looked down at the two prisoners. “The Master’s Tardis has been tracked and he will be apprehended. His former allies have come forward and revealed his plot to poison me. Doctor, I chose you, I trusted your friend as my advisor. Now, I will make things right while I still can.” He sat up, addressing the assembly. “The traitors will receive their sentences!”

Romana laid a hand on her father’s sleeve. “I have a request.”

Rassilon paused and blinked at his daughter. “A request?”

She nodded. “I know they must die for crimes against Gallifrey, that is the law. But I would ask… that the prisoners be allowed to die together.”

“But that would be mercy,” said Rassilon. “After they disgraced you before our great nation!”

“Yes, I was wronged,” she agreed. “Then it should be my decision.”

Rassilon shook his head. “You don’t know your own mind,” he said, dismissively, then turned back to the crowd. “For their crimes, the traitors--”

Romana stood up and faced her father. “My king, you have poison in your blood. We all know this. Soon, I will be completely alone, because everyone I love will be gone. So, you must allow me to exercise my will over Gallifrey, because I am to be your successor and because I demand it.”

Rassilon studied his daughter for a long moment, assessing her strength and courage. Then, he nodded and waved her forward. With a little smile for him, Romana turned to the assembly and looked down at Rose and the Doctor… two people she had come to love.

“For their crimes, the traitors shall be buried in the rock of Mount Lung, in one cave that shall be collapsed… together. The Queen of Gallifrey has spoken.”

She turned her back then, unable to watch as they were taken away. She covered her mouth, stifling a sob that wanted to come up. She wouldn’t let it. She had to stand strong now, as the ruler of Gallifrey. Straightening, she let her hand fall to her side and she threw back her shoulders, exiting the Judgment Hall in grace and stoicism.

* * *

The Doctor and Rose were loaded into a hovercraft with a few armed guards and taken to the mines of Mount Lung, where an abandoned, barren cave awaited them. Rose leaned her head on the Doctor’s shoulder and he kissed her hair, each of them taking courage from the other for what they were about to face. Their one solace was that they were together.

At the cave, their shackles were removed and they were forced into the back of it. The guards then collapsed the entrance, leaving them in darkness.

“I can’t see,” Rose said, holding out her hands for him.

The Doctor’s superior vision permitted him to see as if in dim light. He could make out her outline and features, but no sharp details. He took her hands and pulled her close. “I’m right here,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a watery voice. “I tried to ask Romana to save you.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t want to be saved. I wanted to be with you, no matter what.”

“What will happen to us?”

“Well,” he said, slowly, easing them down onto the rocky floor of the cave. “The air will slowly get used up and you’ll pass out. It’s not a bad way to die, as things go, you’ll most likely be unconscious when it happens.” He was trying to keep it light, but sensed he was failing. “For me, however, it won’t be so easy. I’ve got a respiratory bypass that holds about an additional hour of air.” He swallowed. “I’ll have to watch you die.”

She burrowed closer to him, kissing his cheek and running her fingers through his hair, wishing she could apologize for something neither one of them had any control over.

“There’s still a way out for me,” he said, suddenly, and Rose perked up. “When my air is gone, I’ll regenerate… I can use the resulting blast of energy to break a hole in the rock fall and escape.” He half smiled. “They were going to make me regenerate anyway… I think Romana figured this out and that’s why she had us put together. She didn’t want you to be alone.”

“Good old Romana,” said Rose with a smile. “You’ll be a different man, then.”

“Yes… but still the same memories, and isn’t that what makes us who we are?” He brushed back her hair and kissed her forehead. “No matter how many times I regenerate, Rose, I will always love you. And I’ll find you again.”

“Find me again? How? I’m right here.”

He chuckled. “You humans. You have your own form of regeneration. When you die, your little soul goes wandering the universe until it finds a new place to call home. I’ll look for you, past and future. And even if it takes all twelve of my remaining lives, I’ll find you.”

“Why would you find me in the past?”

He scoffed. “Time isn’t a straight line, Rose.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Time Lords.” Then she yawned.

The Doctor stiffened momentarily, recognizing the first signs of air loss. He took her hand in his, keeping his other arm around her shoulders. “Rose, I would like to ask you for something.” He paused, finding it odd that he should be nervous now, moments from death. “Will you consent to bond with me?”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“It’s your decision. I’m not even certain if it will work, but…” He brought her hand to his lips. “I want that with you. And I’ll never be able to bond with anyone else, unless it’s you, so it’s kind of… like a homing beacon.”

She smiled. “Of course, I will. I love you.”

They lay down, side by side, their foreheads pressed against one another’s. The Doctor took the lead, guiding Rose through the process, aligning their minds, until the bond was complete. He could feel her bright presence, hear her thoughts, just as she could feel his. Rose’s last moments were of being wrapped in the Doctor’s love for her.

When he felt her mind go quiet and pull away from his at last, he allowed the tears to come. Though they had been bonded for only a handful of minutes, he felt the loss acutely. He buried his face in her golden hair and wept for his love, taken from him so soon. He vowed that he would spend his lives looking to her example of bravery and compassion. He would make the hard decisions, he would stand up for those who couldn’t, say no when no one else would.

The Doctor used his time remaining to create a pyre of rocks on which to lay Rose’s body. He would have to return later to finish it and set it alight, in the way of Time Lord funerals, but he arranged her as though she smiled, looking so peaceful, she might have been asleep. He folded her hands around the Tardis key, which still hung around her neck.

He looked down and saw that his hands were beginning to glow. It was starting. He moved to the front of the cave, by the rock fall, and waited. His last thoughts were of his love for Rose. He closed his eyes and suddenly all was golden…

* * *

The Doctor, in a slightly older, shorter body, escaped from the collapsed cave when the blast of regenerative energy shot the rocks away from the entrance. He disappeared down the mountain, heading for the Tardis docking port with his robes trailing behind him… As soon as he was out of sight, his Tardis appeared next to the entrance to the cave and he exited the gray cylinder, now dressed in a black frock coat over a light blue Oxford and checked trousers with a matching bow-tie. His eyes were still blue and his hair was still black, but shorter now. The lines on his face were more pronounced and his long aristocratic nose was now slightly bulbous.

He climbed into the cave to find the body of his love. He looked down at her for a long time, making sure he had every detail of her memorized. Then he reached into his bigger-on-the-inside pockets and strew the pyre with arkytior blossoms because they reminded him of the roses of Earth. The Tardis had provided him with a new sonic screwdriver, his old one having been confiscated by the guards, and he used it to set the flowers ablaze.

Standing back a few steps, he pulled a recorder out of the inside pocket of his jacket and played a mournful tune for Rose as her body was consumed by the fire.

When at last the flames burned themselves out, the Doctor turned and left the cave, collapsing the entrance again so no one would ever disturb Rose’s resting place.

He stepped back inside his Tardis and sighed. He clapped his hands together and moved to the console. “Come on, then, old girl. Help me find my Rose.”

* * *

The Doctor wasn’t the only one inspired by Rose to do the right thing. Romana allowed Rose’s memory to guide her path as she ascended to the throne. She was certain in her hearts that the Time Lords’ current way of life had to stop, that the journey of conquest must end and give birth to a reign of peace.

Every slave was sent back to where they’d come from, and instead of ruling over the planets previously conquered, Romana organized treaties with them, securing mutual benefit for all parties. It took a great deal of time, but Romana changed the way Time Lords were seen in the universe during her rule. They became the guardians of time, a benevolent species, keeping watch over the others from the background. Gallifrey stopped being a source of fear. It instead came to be known as the Shining World of the Seven Systems.

Eventually, Romana managed to contact the Doctor and tell him he was welcome to return, though he rarely did. He never stopped in his endless search.

* * *

He was alone. He’d ended the Time War, but at the cost of his entire species. Not that they’d ever been on the best of terms, but now, all was quiet in his mind. That reassuring white noise of the Time Lords’ web of telepathy that he so often had blocked out was now gone. All was silent.

He leaned heavily on his console. He was in his ninth incarnation now. He hadn’t even bothered to look in a mirror this time. He’d lost so much of his will to care. Just stripped off the double breasted pea-coat and military trousers and changed into some dark jeans and a black jumper, then went to his room to build a new sonic since his old one had given out. The only thing he knew for certain was he didn’t have much hair this time around. He’d reached up to run his fingers through it, only to find it cropped close to his head. Not that it really mattered. Eight hundred years had passed, give or take, and he hadn’t found her anywhere. And he’d been so sure, so certain, that she would come back, given enough time.

The only reason he hadn’t given up completely was because of her memory. He could still call up the image of her smile, of her honey-colored eyes, the way the sun gleamed on her hair. He could still remember the touch of her mind to his. It was a tiny light in the darkness that had swallowed him.

But he was so close to giving up now. He wasn’t sure if he cared whether he lived or ran right through his remaining regenerations. What was the point, if he couldn’t find her?

The Tardis monitor pinged at him. He sighed and walked around the console to see what she’d picked up. He tilted the screen and looked at the readings.

“Autons,” he grunted. The voice was a bit different this time around as well, but then, regeneration was a lottery.

The Tardis had picked up the signal in 2005, London, England, Earth. He smirked. Earth was where he’d gone first after leaving Gallifrey. He’d wanted to see where Rose’s family had come from. Only, he’d ended up in the 1960s and the rough landing from piloting on his own had made him fall on the chameleon circuit. It had broken, making the time ship unable to disguise herself anymore. She was stuck looking like a blue police call box, but he didn’t mind. He kind of liked it that way.

He grabbed his battered leather jacket, which seemed an appropriate fashion choice for the only survivor of a massive war, and tucked a few things into its pockets; his sonic, a phial of anti-plastic, a wind-up mouse, a banana, and a small explosive device.

The Tardis materialized as close to the source as she could pin-point and the Doctor followed it on foot from there, using the sonic to measure the readings. He tracked it to a department store that was closed for the night, which was good, as he found it was full of autons. The simplest way to get rid of them all was to blow the building up.

But then the sonic detected a human lifeform in the basement. He couldn’t blow the building with someone still inside it. With a sigh, he hurried to find whoever it was before they blundered into something they couldn’t handle.

He found a middle-aged man wearing an electrician’s uniform, dead on the concrete floor, but the sonic still detected a lifeform, so he moved on.

Finally, he came upon a young girl in a storeroom, being slowly cornered by the autons. Her bleached hair was mostly covering her face and something about her seemed... off, but he didn’t have long to think about it. He grabbed her hand and told her to run.

It wasn’t until they’d run into the lift that he’d turned to get a look at her. She was talking about the autons and trying to work out what they could be, but he wasn’t listening.

It was her.

“Rose,” he whispered, his throat choked.

She blinked. “How’d you know my name?”

The explanation would take too long and she’d never believe it. He wouldn’t even know where to begin. He made a quick decision. “You once gave me your permission,” he said, closing the distance between them. “I hope that still holds.”

Before she could move or ask him what he was about, he placed his hands on either side of her face and pressed his forehead to hers. In a flash, he was in her mind, and the feeling, the warmth… it was exactly as he remembered. He shared his memories of their time together so long ago, showing his emotions in a way words couldn’t.

And then… tucked away in the back of her mind… he found it. A tight bundle of golden energy that reached out for his, as though it had been waiting. As he touched it, it unfurled, and their bond flared to life.

When he pulled back, there were tears in both their eyes.

“Were you-- did you just--” She gestured at her head.

He nodded. “I was inside your mind, Rose. I was sharing my memories with you.”

“And you-- you think that I’m-- that she’s--” She took a breath, attempting to calm herself. “You think that the Rose you remember… is me?”

“She is you, Rose,” he insisted. “You’re her. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be able to do this.” Without touching her, he sent his feelings of hearts-pounding excitement and joy at finding her.

She gasped, putting a hand to her head. “How’re you doing that?” she exclaimed.

“You saw it,” he said. “You bonded with me all that time ago. And it was still there, in your head.” He held out his hand to her. “Please, Rose. You know I’m telling the truth. It’s all there in your mind, if you look.” His excitement faded as gut churning fear spiked through him. What if she chose not to believe, despite all he’d shown her, despite the proof in her own head? “Rose,” he said, in a low voice tinged with desperation. “Who am I? You know the answer. Tell me and prove me right.”

She stared at him. He saw, and felt through the bond, when the answer came to her. “Doctor,” she said, and his hearts skipped a beat at hearing her call his name after so long. She brought a hand to her mouth. “You’re telling me the truth. What you showed me, it… it used to be my life! You’re the Doctor. You’re a Time Lord. And… and you were waiting. Waiting and looking… for me.”

He nodded, so proud of her for giving him the benefit of the doubt rather than believing what she knew to be true about the universe.

She reached out and took the hand he’d offered, then stepped closer and touched his face. Her fingertips left a burning trail across his skin and he wanted to press her hand against his cheek, but he held back. He wanted her to accept him at her own pace after he’d been so abrupt in his desperation for her to know him.

“Same eyes,” she said and he smiled. “The rest of you is so different, though… How long has it been?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, meaning it. “I finally found you, that’s what’s important.”

“My Doctor,” she murmured, shaking her head. “This is gonna take a while to get used to.”

“That’s all right,” he said with a grin. “I’ve still got time.”

She tucked her tongue into the corner of her smile and he was so close to chasing it with his own. He took a step back, needing the physical distance, even as his mind was caressing hers. She said she needed time. He would give it to her, however long it ended up being.

“You have something to do with the shop window dummies coming to life, then?” she asked.

The autons. The reason he’d come in the first place. He’d completely forgotten. “Ah, yes, right… Well, they’re aliens. You probably know that now. I was gonna, you know, blow up the building. But then I found you and well, couldn’t do that until I got you out.”

“Oh, no, you’re not sending me off,” she said, wagging a finger at him. He stared at her as she moved to the lift buttons and pressed the one for the roof. “You’re taking me with you until we get all this memory stuff sorted.”

“How’d you know I was heading for the roof?” he asked. She pointed at her own head, then at his, with a look that said it should have been obvious to him. A huge smile lit his face. “Quick study, you are.”

“Aren’t I just?” She shook her head. “Actually, I have no idea what I’m doing. It’s like… if I want the information, it just comes, whether it’s from my head or yours.”

He strengthened his mental shields. He couldn’t block her completely, not with a full bond in place, but it would help from her from catching everything. “That better?”

She paused, tilting her head to the side. “Yeah,” she said at last, nodding. “It’s… quieter.”

“We’ll work on your new mental abilities later.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

The lift came to a slow stop and she grabbed his hand, letting him pull her alongside as he ran out onto the roof. She talked to him while he set the explosive, asking about what he’d shown her of his memories, occasionally bringing up bits that he didn’t remember, like talking to her mother in the prison. Feeling his way along their bond, he realized that being connected with him was allowing her to tap into his time sense. She was catching bits of her own past timeline, receiving them as distant memories of her own. To his surprise, she was remembering not just his side of things, but hers.

When he’d finished setting the explosive, they went down to street level and the Doctor detonated the device with the sonic, razing the building to the ground. He looked at her.

“Sorry,” he offered, a bit lamely, but she shrugged.

“Didn’t really like that job anyway.”

He brought her back to the Tardis, parked just down the street. Rose stood on the ramp and looked around at the swooping, graceful coral struts, the hexagonal lights, and the glowing green central column with her mouth open. “This is... a bit different, too,” she said, finally.

He nodded. “Changed the desktop a few times,” he said. “Good different, or bad different?” He could tell she knew he wasn’t just asking about the Tardis.

“Just… different,” she said. “Still the same man.”

He inclined his head again. “Still the same man,” he confirmed. “Though I do have a lot to tell you.” Eight hundred-ish years certainly qualified as ‘a lot.’ And he wasn’t looking forward to telling her about the Time War. He really didn’t want to get into it that night, not when they’d just found each other.

“There’s time,” she said, echoing his earlier statement and relief soothed his nerves. She came closer and looked at the console, at all the various cobbled together bits he’d adapted in an effort to keep the old girl in working order. “Still the same… feelings?” she asked, a bit shyly.

He moved in front of her and took her hand. “Rose, everything I have done up til now has been because of you. I drew my strength and inspiration from your memory, from my love for you. The feelings I had then… they never died.” He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “They never will.”

She looked down at the grating and blushed.

Unable to help himself, he traced her cheek with the fingers of his other hand. “You’re just as I remember you,” he said, softly. “All pink and yellow and so warm. So human.”

She looked up at him slyly, biting her lip. “Still got that sunken tub?”

He goggled at her.

She gave a slight shrug and looked at the ceiling, all innocence. “I just think it might be fitting… Our first meeting was in the bath.”

His eyelids lowered halfway, giving her a heated look. “Actually, it’s a standing copper tub now, with a waterfall feature.” He gestured to the corridor. “Would you care to see?”

“Only if you scrub _my_ back this time.”

The Doctor had a feeling that getting to know Rose the second time around was going to be a bit more fun than the first. But still, he had to ask.

“Are you sure you still want this with me?” He lifted one shoulder. “Well, there isn’t a whole lot I can do about it if you don’t, the bond will always be there, it’s just…” He shoved his hands into his pockets, looking down at the floor. “I don’t want you to feel… obligated. Just because I woke something up in your mind.”

“Doctor--”

He looked back up, his eyes bright with fierce determination. “I want you, Rose,” he said, to clarify. He didn’t want her thinking he was trying to talk his way out of it. “Desperately. But I won’t force you to do anything just because of what I want.” He gave her a half-smile. “Left that way of life behind a long time ago, me.”

She smiled back. “The way I see it,” she said, bringing her hands to his shoulders, “I just get to fall in love with you all over again.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Now, how about that bath?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed this! I'm glad you enjoyed the angst-fest! And now, onto the smutty ending! :D

It was so strange that now, so many years later, he was nervous, when the first time he’d seen Rose in his bath, it had been the other way around. He supposed it was because he’d held the power the first time, and now she did. He paused outside of his bedroom, one hand on the doorknob, and turned toward her.

“Rose,” he said, hesitantly. “You don’t have to do this to… prove something to me. We can take things slow, I don’t mind.”

She quirked a smile. “I’ll admit, it’s a little bizarre to suddenly remember loving someone the way I loved you, but…” She touched his chest, laying one hand on the front of his jumper. He knew she could feel the racing pulse of his hearts. “This feels right. It feels like… I’d been waiting for you.” She lifted an eyebrow. “And I think you’ve waited long enough.”

He frowned as he realized she’d seen how much time had passed in his head. “I’m gonna have to teach you some telepathic etiquette,” he grumbled.

“Ha! You’re one to talk, banking on permission that was given over eight hundred years ago!”

He looked at the floor. “I _am_ sorry for that,” he said, quietly. “I was just so… ecstatic to have found you. I wanted the first part to be over so I could get on with telling you everything else.” He grimaced. “I’m not off to good start, am I?”

Her smile was as warm as ever. “You’ll get better.”

Bolstered by her confidence, he took her hand from his chest, kissed it, and pushed open the door. His room was different this time around as well, in dark wood and soft, worn leather, with touches of maroon and forest green.

“This is nice,” she said, doing a bit of a wander around the room, looking at the books and bits of tech strewn around.

He leaned against a bookshelf and watched as she found his coat rack and pulled his old umbrella from the stand, the one with the handle in the shape of a question mark. He’d certainly gone through a lot of changes… He wondered if she had as well.

“Tell me about your life in London,” he said, suddenly. “You’re not still a princess, are you?”

She laughed. “No, not hardly. I work-- well, _worked_ \-- in a shop. Nothing fancy. Mum and I live on a council estate. It’s just the two of us, ever since my dad died when I was a baby.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She pressed her lips together, nodding. “Thanks. I wish I’d known him, mum’s always telling stories about his mad ideas.” She perked up. “Oh, Mickey’s around, too! We’ve been best mates forever.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Just… mates?”

“Heh, yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Though mum always thought we should be together. Tried it once, but it was just weird. He’s like my brother. I couldn’t date my _brother_.” She scratched her head. “Dunno how I’m going to explain _this_ , though.”

“This?”

She tilted her chin at him. “You. Us.” She gestured between them. “This.”

“Ah.” He cringed. “Good point.”

She sighed, then lifted her eyebrows at him. “One thing at a time?”

“If we can.” He pushed away from the bookshelf and came over to her, reaching for her hand. She twined her fingers with his and he smiled at the perfection of the fit. “I’d like to focus on you tonight.”

“Of course,” she said, grinning. “I was promised a back scrub.”

The connecting ensuite boasted the copper tub he’d mentioned, in an atmosphere of cream and burgundy. A strange plant hung in one corner, long tendrils spiraling down to the floor and up the nearby walls, blossoming with deep purple flowers in the shape of tiny trumpets. It gave of a light, fresh scent and seemed to be thriving in the damp, humid area.

She felt him telepathically nudge the Tardis and then the waterfall feature on the tub began to flow, filling it with warm water. She could tell what he meant then, about the mental etiquette. She didn’t seem to have a way of ‘muting’ his thoughts and feelings and suspected she was only getting what she was because he couldn’t block everything. She wondered if he was feeling everything from her.

“Yes,” he said, in answer to her thoughts, and she laughed. “I’ll teach you some basic shielding techniques, it shouldn’t be too difficult. We’ll always be able to reach each other through the bond, but once you get the hang of it, you won’t be broadcasting everything to me.”

She nodded. Then they looked at one another for a long moment. Slowly, he removed his leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor. As before, his eyes held the suggestion of a dare in them. With a sly smile, Rose unzipped her hoodie and threw it on top of the jacket. He pulled his jumper off and dropped it on the pile. Rose visibly swallowed.

“What?” he asked.

“Nice,” she said, blatantly admiring his lithe runner’s body.

He smirked, but it was wiped from his face when she pulled the light pink camisole over her head and tossed it aside. She wore a white bra with a little edging of lace, which she reached behind herself to remove. His mouth went utterly dry as he feasted his eyes on breasts so lovely, he wanted to write sonnets about them. His hands twitched at his sides, but he didn’t reach for her. He was determined to let her set the pace for them in that regard.

As one, they took a break from ogling to concentrate on getting out of their shoes, then straightened up and unfastened their jeans, removing them with their underthings.

Rose abruptly snorted and doubled over in laughter. The Doctor’s expression turned to one of dismay.

“What? _What?”_ he demanded. “What is so funny?”

She shook her head, taking a few more moments to get her mirth under control. “It’s still you all right,” she said, breathlessly. “You still have to give your body _permission_ to react!”

He looked down at his currently flaccid length and frowned at her, putting his hands on his hips. “I’ll thank you to stop laughing at my superior physiology, Rose.”

“Soooo superior,” she said, giggling.

“All right, that does it.”

She shrieked as he came at her, fingers tickling at her ribs and underarms and stomach. She beat at his shoulders with her hands, but it didn’t seem to phase him. Finally, he scooped her up in his arms and dumped her into the tub, causing a great wave of water over the sides. She came up pouting and splashed him when he climbed into the tub with her.

“Oh, put the lower lip away,” he said, settling against the side. “I’ll have you know, I’m controlling myself for your sake.” She looked at him askance and he glanced away. “Like you said, it’s been a long time. I want to give you whatever space you need.”

She bit her lip. “What if… I don’t want so much space?” she asked, edging closer to him in the bath.

“Rose, please,” he said, holding up a hand. “Don’t test me.”

“What if I want you a little out of control?” she asked.

Her fingers wrapped around one of his ankles and he squeaked, then cleared his throat to cover it up. Despite his best intentions and all his bragging about his physiology, his body was beginning to come to life on its own. Seeing Rose, naked, in his bath, on her hands and knees, running her fingers up his leg as she moved closer to him, was no match for his self-control. His breathing began to speed up, his face flushed, and his pupils dilated. Rose grinned as she watched the changes in him, and he felt her satisfaction along their bond. The saucy minx.

As his body heated, Rose continued moving closer, her legs straddling his, her inner thighs brushing the light hair there. His eyes were riveted to where the water lapped at her breasts and his lower extremities echoed his appreciation. He put his hands out on the rim of the tub, clutching it desperately to avoid grabbing her and pulling her close.

“Rose, you’d better be very sure you know what you’re doing,” he said, gruffly. “Don’t start something you won’t let me finish. I won’t--” He swallowed as she sat down on his thighs, her core inches from his length which throbbed with urgency. “I won’t be able to stop.”

She brought her hands up to either side of his face, her amber eyes full of such love, it made his hearts ache. “My Doctor,” she said. “You’re trying to treat me so gently. Are you so afraid you’ll lose me again?”

Stiffly, he nodded. “A lot’s happened with me, Rose. And you might…” His breath hitched. “You might not want to stay with me once I tell you.”

She sighed. “Doctor, not even dying kept me away from you.”

Rising up on her knees, she pressed her forehead against his. Automatically, his mind sought her out, and she was there, bright and shining, not shying away from him at all, trusting him to guide her. He felt her projecting the love she remembered, the love that was only growing with each moment that passed. It was as if no time had gone by for her at all, as if they were still back in that red field at sunset. She allowed the memory to spur her actions and pressed her lips to his.

His arms came around her at once, crushing her to him, one hand traveling up to tangle in her hair. He nibbled her bottom lip, tugged at it until she opened her mouth, before plunging his tongue inside, hungrily taking her kiss. He moaned as she rubbed herself against him, her tight curls below brushing his cock.

He brought one hand under her bottom and lifted her slightly as he tucked his legs underneath him and laid her against the opposite side of the tub, switching their positions as the water sloshed around them. There would be time later, to kiss and caress, for him to explore her body leisurely, but now was not that time. He needed her, needed to bury himself in her light and love, needed to lose himself in all that she was.

“Rose,” he bit out with his lips against her neck, his hips helplessly rutting against her slick skin. “Can I--?”

“I’m ready,” she breathed. “Please… Need you.”

She brought her legs up and around his slim waist as he guided himself to her entrance. He was sure the sound he made as he thrust into her warmth was very un-Time-Lord-like, but he would never know for sure. He was lost to her face, her expression, lost to the feeling of pure joy that mingled between them. He opened his mind, letting her feel everything… The completion he knew at being joined with her.

And he was grateful, so grateful. Because he knew, while losing Gallifrey was a tragedy in a lot of ways, he hadn’t lost his home. That was wherever Rose was and as long as he found her, he would find home.

He felt his climax coming, much too soon, but he could have predicted that. The emotions and physical feelings traveling through their bond were too much, after being without for so long. “I’m close,” he said, apologetically, but she shook her head, sending him waves of reassurance.

“Touch me,” she instructed, and he shifted his weight onto one arm to slip a hand between them, rubbing the small bundle of nerves at her apex where they were joined. Her back arched almost at once as her orgasm rose within her.

When he came, hard and long, with a shout of triumph, she was seconds after him, clinging to his shoulders as she called out in a high, breathless voice.

They rested there in the water for a few minutes, the buoyancy ensuring that the Doctor wasn’t too heavy on top of Rose. At length, she lifted her head from the rim of the tub and looked down at him, his head resting on her breast, his eyes closed, his face slack in absolute contentment. She kissed his crown, smiling as she absently thought of all that beautiful black hair he’d once had. It had been great for tugging at. Then again, those ears of his might make good handles…

She giggled softly and he opened his eyes, raising up to look at her suspiciously.

“Just thinking about you,” she said, innocently, stroking his back. She looked up at the ceiling briefly, then back at him. “If I stay the night, can you bring me back before my mum knows I’m gone? She’ll think I got blown up in the store.”

“Course I can,” he said, mentally hoping the Tardis wouldn’t pull one of her fits of pique. He’d have to remember to double check the coordinates. “What are you going to tell her?”

“Dunno.” She pursed her lips, thinking about it.

“What if I said I’ve employed you?” he said. “Seems fitting, since I blew up your job.”

“That would work,” she said. “But employed, how?”

“As my companion, of course.”

“Companion,” she repeated. “Don’t know about that. She’ll think it’s a sex thing.”

“That’s because it absolutely is, where you’re concerned,” he said with a straight face. She laughed and he grinned. “My personal assistant. I travel a lot, need someone to keep me in line and give me their perspective.”

“Could I come back for visits? She’ll insist on that.”

“If we must.”

“Doctor, she’s my mum!”

“Well, she’s not mine.” She gave him a stern look and he relented. “Yes, of course, I’ll bring you back to see your mum every so often. But she doesn’t get to come aboard!”

“Ugh, of course not,” she said. “I don’t think mum would be able to handle knowing about time travel and aliens and all.”

“At least not right away,” he said, thinking of how Rose concealed her identity from him before. “We can’t keep secrets like this from her forever, it wouldn’t be fair. I just don’t want her thinking I’ve brainwashed her daughter with a load of bollocks and kidnapped her.”

Rose chuckled. “That’s probably just how she’d react. Give you a slap, too.”

“No, thank you,” he said, smiling. He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and trailed his fingers down her cheek. “You will stay with me, won’t you?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Always.” She pulled him down for a kiss, then murmured against his mouth, “Now, take me to bed.”

“Your wish is my command.”


End file.
